LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap. Copyright No. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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THE STORY OF INEZ 






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^s Pwre and Wholesome as the Sun and Air^ 

As Typical of California as its Fruits and Flowers, 



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OCT 8 1900 

Cof yright «irtry 

SECOWn COPY. 

0<-*Hf«<«d in 

OHOiH DWISION, 

JIOT P,P. 19(10 



Copyright 1898, 
. -by- 
CHARLES VINCENT KAVANAGH. 



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yw Among those to whom I am espeeiallij^ 
indebted for many kindnesses I wish to 
particularly render due acknowledgement 
to my brother, 

Fred IVilliam: Kauanagh. 
for generous assistance and encouragement, 
in the preparation and presentation of 

this play. 



rvh 






TO MY NATIVE STATE — 



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m 



3^lie perusal of the history of which is at once a lesson and 
) an example of all tliat is most noble and glorious in 
the field of human endeavor and from the pages of which 
"THE STORY OF INEZ" was fashioned. 



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One Hundred Copies of this Edition 
have been printed of which this is 



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Soirdstar pine-clad hills w^ers never, 

Siveeter fflo'wers iirere never •wreatlied, 

Sioreeter life in snintner season, 

S'weeter air "was never lireatlied, 

Gentler maiden tlian fair Inez, 

Pnrer love in heart and m.ind. 

Never "beat in breast of ■sroman, 
j&^gel sanl ixL xsretznan Iklnd* 

R, H. K, 



^f 



SCENES OF THE PLAY. 



"2^-^^— ^ 



-A.OT I. 



MDNTEREY, » CALIFORNIA 

— ( An interval of ONE DAY. )— 



RANCHD EL MARID, 

— ( An interval of TWENTY YEABS. )- 



SAME AS ACT II, 

-(Au interval of SIX YEARS. )— 



SACRISTY, 



SAN CARLCS BDRRDMED, MnnterBy 
^ M. M 



LOCATION, TIME, PERIOD. 

MONTEREY. CAL 1852. EARLY GAL 





* PERSONS OF THE PLAY, * 



3^^?_^tir 



John Van Eaer, An Attorney. 

Don Luis MazJilveda, . of Rancho El Mario. 

Padre Salcedo, of Mission San Carlos. 

Judge Blackson, of Blackson & Moreland. 

-Major McGlory, U. S. A. 

Lieutenant t^imcoe, U. S. A. 

Andreo Mazalveda, of Mission San Carlos, 

Felipe, . of the Rancho El Mario, 

Benito, Attendant at Mission San Carlos. 

Inez Mazalveda, Daughter of Don Luis Mazalveda. 

Edith Blackson, Daughter of Judge Blackson. 

1st. Child 

Children. 





THE STORY OF INEZ. 



3 j^ FXjJi^ir. (^ 
ACT J. 



MDNTEREY, CALIFDRNIfl 



S(JEXK Street in Monterey, showing Old Custom House on 

L. Avitli flag-pole fastened to corner. On R. is a row of houses 
built ill style peculiar to the period. Over doorway of house R. 1. 
E, is a. sign reading, ''Office of Blackson & Moreland." As curtain 
rises discloses empty stage. Music is heard and procession of 
cliildrcM enters singing and bearing flowers in their hands. The 
girls a ic all dressed in white, having long, loose white veils float- 
ing from wreatbs on tbeir heads, allowing faces to be seen. The 
comi>l('xi()ns of the children range in color from the very dark Ind- 
ian tint to the lighter though still dark olive hue of the Spaniard 
while some few are perfectly white as if Americans. The process- 
ion (Miters L. U. E. and after marching around fountain, placed at 
center of stage, exeunt R. U. E. leaving McGlory and Simcoe who 
'have ent<.'red last L. and are watching the children, alone. They 
gradually advance to front. 



Mc (i A very pretty sight. Lieutenant? 

Sim Very Major, and yet a common one hereabouts. You 

see the population of Monterey is very religious and 
all the customs and ceremonies of their church are 
most devoutly and rigidly observed. 

Mc (r Tliis was a religious procession then? 

Sim Yes, in fact, the children go to be confirmed. In the 

olden time this was esteemed a very great occasion 
and the ceremonies attendant upon its bestowal were 



12 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



very beautiful and impressive. Nowadays however 
the presence here of the "Gringo," in such large num- 
bers makes it very difficult for the Padres to continue 
all those old customs and traditions which are so dear 
to them. 

Me G A curious people, Simcoe. Having but just arrived 

from an eastern post, I observe them with greater in- 
terest. Have you been stationed here long? 

Hii»i. Yes, in fact ever since we acquired California. I say 

"acquired," for that is the term by which that process 
which procured us the State is known. That is at 
least the diplomatic way of expressing it. 

Mc (t Diplomacy has a lexicon of its own Simcoe, and its 

terms if unusual are fraught with meaning. . But 
about these people? 

Sill, The people here Major, are indeed most interesting 

and when you know them better, you will learn to 
admire and to respect them. Wedded to their old and 
treasured memories, they present a spectacle that is 
most charming, Impracticability and the absence of 
those qualities of adaptability and industry have been 
their undoing. Lacking the enterprise and progress - 
iveness that is so striking a characteristic of our peo- 
ple, they believed that their beautiful Arcadian exis- 
tence was destined to continue forever. 

Mc G Still it was impossible for Spain to retain the State. 

Sim Yes, and to the older families who remained loyal t(» 

the mother country, the separation of California from 
Spain was a terrible affliction. When Mexico declared 
her Independence and assumed control here, Califor- 
nia sustained the first serious interruption to its pro- 
gress at the hands of the unscrupulous ministers of 
the young Republic. 

Mr G Yes, but the usurpers were themselves Spanish? 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 13. 



Sim True and this might have been endured with patience 

perhaps, but when the State passed from the feeble 
control of Mexico and was forever lost to the Spanish 
their anguish knew no bounds. 

McG But as it was inevitable that eventually the United 

States must take California, why then do they repine 
over what they must have know could not be avoided? 

Sim Nevertheless Major, they do regret it for they can 

never forget that California once was theirs, nor 
can they forgive us for having wrested from them a 
country to which they were attached by the memory 
of its discovery and of their achievements, 

McG And for the American people Simcoe, do they still 

treasure in their hearts the fury of their resentment? 

Sim, By no means Major. Primarily the "Don" is a gentle- 
man and he harbors no feeling of animosity against 
us as distinct individuals. Rather is it against the 
people as a nation that his hatred is directed. But 
here comes Van Raer, you could not consult a better 
authority on these matters than he. 
[Enter Van Raer, L. U. E.] ^ 

Van [advancing to McG. and shaking hands.] Ah Major, 

welcome to Monterey. Good morning, Simcoe. 

McG Thanks. We have just been discussing the early pro- 
prietors, Mr. Van Raer and Simcoe has referred me 
to you for further information on the subject 

Van, Has he? Well, you see Major, our firm has acquired a 

great practice among our Spanish friends and naturally 
I take a deep if somewhat selfish interest in all that 
(Concerns them, hence the reference to me. Can I be 
of any service to you? 

Sini. The Major has just been inquiring the reasons for tlie 

continuance of ill-feeling between the older Spanish 
residents and our newer American arrivals. 



14 THE STOEY OF INEZ. 



Van Ah, indeed. Well that is very simple. You are aware 

perhaps of all that has occurred prior to our occupation 
Major? 

McG Oh, yes, Himcoe has been instructing mo. 

Van Well, after the acquisition of California by tlie United 

States, came naturally the settlement of all those vex- 
atious land cases which have really caused all the 
friction between the two peoples since tlie raisiiig of 
•'Old Glory" on yonder fiagstaflf. [points to pole on 
Custom House.] * 

McG Here then is where that historic event <x-curred, eh? 

Sim Precisely. That was the Spanish Custom House an<i 

it was here that our Commodore Sloat landed and 
assumed possession. 

McG... ..Indeed? How interesting! 

Van The "Dons" were most careless in the matter of the 

proper registration of their titles and grants, which the 
mother country of Spain and later the Mexican govern- 
ment had given them. Naturally tlien, since these grants 
were issued many changes have occurred in the govern- 
ment and great confusion has resulted, whereby many of 
these titles to immense quantities of land have become 
imperiled. In order to secure themselves and their 
descendants,these old Spanish families are now endeavor- 
ing to have their claims so protected as to remove thcjii 
from the assaults of our enterprising though unscrupul- 
ous speculators. In this branch of the legal business 
our firm has established a splendid reputation and conse- 
quently we have been retained on a great many of these 
celebrated cases, in fact tliat is precisely what brings 
me to Monterey at this time. 

Hijn What particular c:ise have you here Van Raer? 

V;mi That of the Rancho El Mario. You know Simco(^, 

the Don Louis Mazalveda. 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 15 



Sim He wlio has the lovely daughter? 

Van Precisely, It is the validity of liis title to El Mario that 

we are at present defending. 

Sim Indeed! I had heard something of it but had forgotten. 

Bytheway, where were you last evening? I did hot 
see you at thedance : th(( lovely Senoi-itjj Inez Mazalveda 
was there. 

JV^an Was she? I was busy nearly all night arranging the 

papers in our case and so was prevented from attending. 
Judge Blackson, the senior member of our firm arrived 
today, have you met him as yet? 

MeG I have. His daughter aecomi)anies him, a most 

charming girl. 

Sim [Impulsively] What? A new face in town and I di<i 

not know it? A " most charming girl '' ditl you s;i>' 
Major, and you have met her? 

McG Oh yes, and slie is a real beauty too. 

Sim Good Heavens, a lovely " Gringo "? I'm losing valuable 

time, [grasps xMcG. by the arm and attempts to pull 
him away] <^ome ( dragging Mc G.) they both exeunt 
K. U. E. 

Van (alone and in an agitated manner) What can have 

brought Edith to Monterey. Surely no hint of Inez 
could have reached her and yet — her sudden appear- 
ance here alarms me. (fiercely) What damnable fatality 
drew me hither to so involve myself as to be beyond the 
hope of honorable retreat. Pledged to Edith I have 
allowed myself to become attached to Inez, only to cause 
her pain and humiliation. How am I to tell Inez who 
has learned to love me and trust me, that I am to 
marry another, that all my protestations were false ajid 
that I am a scoundrel. 
(Enter Felipe R. U. E.) 

Fel Senor Van Raer? 

Van (turning) Ah, Felipe, what news? 



THE STORY OF INEZ. KJ 



Fel The vSenorita Mazalveda orders me to say to you, that 

she has heard with pleasure of the arrival at Monterey 
of the Senor and Senorita Blaeksoii, and tliat she 
will do herself the honor to call upon them this after- 
noon and will heg of them to visit tlie Raneho 
El Mario, there to reside during their sojourn here. 

Van .Convey to the Senorita Mazalveda my sincere thanks 

for her great courtesy to my friends and inform her 
that I will nij'self prepare for her introduction to them. 

Fel. Gracias Senor, the Senorita Inez will he delighted. 

' (exit R, U. E., as Edith enters L. U, E.) 

Van Ah Edith, you have managed to find your way unat- 
tended? 

Ed. .... . Oh yes, John. Of what should I he afraid? Why every- 
thing is so quiet here lliat T am sure that nothing could 
happen to me. 

Van And you are right Kditli. Monterey is very quiet and 

peaceful and I am ghid that you like it. 

Ed Oh yes I admire it greatly, it is such a dear delightful 

old place, so full of sejiliment and memories and those 
old Spanish fjimilies are positivel}^ irresistible, though 
the}- are so everlastingly ceremonious and polite. 

Van 1 am pleased that you have taken to them Edith, for 

I have learned to like and to respect them. 

Ed How strange and quiet you are! Wliat lias caused 

you to conceive so violent an admiration for them. 

Van (seriously) For nearly three-<iuarters of a century, Editli, 

the Spaniard has owned and controlled California and 
during that time he has learned to love and revere it as 
his very own. He it was who discovered it and it was 
he who lias settled and im|iroved it. From nothing he 
lias developed a paradise whicli is to him, a new father- 
land. Here it was that liis cJiildren and his children's 



THE 8TORY OF INEZ. 17 



children wero born and to them it is their native land. 
For all these years he lias continued working and 
striving and only living for it and now it is his no longer. 
Now he is compelled to give place to an<jther and 
stronger people than hi>§ own, and he is sad. It is 
simply the survival of the fittest and while it is natural 
that as an American I should feel proud to own tliis 
beautiful land, Avhich is every day becoming richer 
^ and stronger, still I cannot resist extending my sym- 

pathy to these people, who bear their reverses with 
such calm and dignified resignation. 

Ed Oh, bother your dreadful sentimentality; it makes you 

too serious and if you are not careful, will put wrink- 
les in your forehead. T live in the present, not in the 
dark and dismal past ; the problems that interested 
our predecessors have no attractions for me. Let us 
talk of somelhing else. 

Van As you will Edith, but that reminds me, this afternoon 

I will have the honor I hope, of presenting to you 
the Senorita Inez Mazalveda, of the Rancho El Mario. 
You will remember, that this is the case which has 
brought me hither and which also in bringing your 
father to Monterey, has secured to me the jjleasure of 
seeing yourself. 

Ed How nice; you are improving. I will be delighted to 

meet her. Is she pretty? 

Van (gravely) Very. 

Ed (naievely) Indeed? I shall be afraid of her I think. 

With such a. lovely name, she must be irresistible. 

Van Ah Edith, she is as good as she is beautiful and I am 

sure that you will like her at once. She is the "Lady 
Bountiful" here; and all the people fairly worship her. 

Ed How interesting? From your description I am sure 

that I shall love her at once. 



18 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



Va,si Well, let us talk of ourselves a little. I am not sure 

that this is quite the proper place to hroach such a 
subject, but perhaps it is as well chosen as any that I 
could find here. Your father has intimated to me his 
desire that I should enter the firm at once, as he is 
determined to retire upon the conclusion of the present 
litigation. 

Ed Oh John, I am very glad. 

Yiin. .... .1 thought perhaps that in view of that contingency we 

may as well announce the fact of our engagement at 
tlie same time. I feel assured that your father will 
approve of this ; and I know that I most heartily desire 
it. Of course I am aware that this is somewhat uncon^ 
ventional, but the circumstances are such that it can 
hardly be otherwise. 

Ed . Well John dear, I am sure that whatever you do is for 

the best. You know that I have always assented to your 
wdsh, to have it remain quiet for the time, owing to 
your exaggerated notion of what the world would say. 
Just as if I cartnl whatever it might say. 

Van (taking her liand and speaking very seriously and 

earnestly) W^ell dear, you have made me very happy 
and my only regret now is, that I have remained silent 
so long. Edith dear, I shall be very good to you, and 
the words I said to you when you listened to my plead- 
ings, I now repeat. You are all the world tome, and 
you shall remain so to the end. 

Ed. Oh we shall be all the world to each other Jolui, and T 

feel sure we shall be very happy. 

Van liut liere is your father now. Perhaps I could do no 

better tliau to tell him at once, I will avail myself of 
the opportunity. (Enter Blackson, Major and Simcoe 
K. U. E. ) 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 19 



Blnck Ah! Edith, T thought 1 li^houUl i\nd you somowht'ie 

around here. The Major wishes to introihice this 
gentleman to you. 

Mc(t Miss BLickson, allow uie to present my J'riend, Lieu- 
tenant Simcoe. 

Ed I am pleased to mec^t any friend of tlie Major's. 

Sim (bowing) The pleasure,! :im sure, is mine, Miss Blnekson. 

*Black. You have a quiet post here, I imagine? 

McG Very quiet, Judge, in faet, there is so litth' to attend 

to here, that I believe tlie government will soon 
abandon Monterey, and will remove the eommand to 
San Franeiseo. 

Sim Well! that is news indeed, JVlajor, and I, for one, ean 

assure you that I shall be very glad of the ehange. 

, Mc(i No doubt. Monterey is a little sl(^w, eh? 

Sim Why! it does'nt move at all. It's positively dead, it's 

so very quiet here. 

Ed Why! how can you say so. Lieutenant Simcoe?! think 

it 's just lovely; I could live here charmingly, every- 
thing is so interesting to nje. 

(Enter Inez, L. U. E., who, seeing the party conversing, 
does not interrupt them , but listens, awaiting cue. ) 

Black. I guess you could, Edith, you have always admired this 
(^uiet sort of thing. But what say you. Van Raer, shall 
I announce the good new^s? 

Xi\n As you will. Judge, I have already prepared Edith for 

it, it requires your authoiity to make it legal. 

Black Well Edith, I have some ])leasant intelligence to 

communicate. And for you gentlemen, I have also 
some news. From this day on, w^e have a new partner in 
our firm, and our title will be " Blackson, Moreland 
& Van Raer." Congratulate me on our new acquisition? 
Edith. 



20 THE STORY OF INE/,. 



K^l Oil father, J am very ijjlad. I am sure that you can 

take a loiij; rest now, as John ean take your place, 

Inez ( at back, startle<I. ) .John? 

Ynu Yes Judge, we have heen planning for a long time now, 

on your account, all tending towards a long vacation 
for you, and, ( turning to Edith. ) I am very glad that 
you will have your wish at last, dear. 

Inez .(greatly agitated.) ])ear? My God! what can this 

mean? 

Mc(r. . .My hand, Van Raer, I wish you every success. 

A'an Thanks, Major; and you Simcoe? 

^ini Well, I rather think the Judge is to be congratulated; 

lie has got the best of the bargain. 

Van ( shaking hands with ^im. ) Just like you, my boy. 

Black x\nd I agree with Simcoe; I consider that we are very 

fortunaI(\ 

Van ....: Well Edith, Avith your permission, I have also some 
news to tell. With the consent of Judge Blackscn 
gentlemen, I have the honor to announce, an engage- 
ment of marriage, between Miss Edith Blackson and 
myself. 

Inez .... ( much overcome.) Marriage? 

Sim Great Goodness! you seem in Luck's way, Van Raer; 

allow me to congratulate you, 

McG And I also, Xan Raer, may you be very happy. 

Van..... Again, thanks, gentlemen ; but will 3'ou not step into 
my cffice, I have sonu' rme old Mission wine, and you 
will be able to pledge the health of the bride to be. 

Black ( to Edith, ) Ah, ha ! Why was I not told of this be- 
fore, Miss lnde|»endene? 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 21 



Ed [ iijiively ] Oh, father, you knew it all the time. 

( all exeunt into house, R., leaving door ajar. Occasion- 
ly they can be heard talking in a low hum of voices. 
Inez totters weakly and leans against house, L. for 
support. 

Inez ... (half-sobbing, ) My God; what can this mean? What 
has he been saying this man whose words mean so much 
« to me? His wife-? No, no, it can not be, and yet -- he 
himself has said so. Oh God ! what shall I do? ( helpless- 
ly ) Surely I have heard aright and yet it's 

monstrous ! ( angrily ) She can never be aught to him, 
he is bound in honor to me, and he must not thus aban- 
don me.( realizing her position she becomes again heli)- 
less ) Oh mother in heaven, am I to be so punished? To 

to think that I who who have - loved him so 

must now be condemned to suffer such disgrace and 
humiliation, (convulsively ) Oh my father, what will 
become of me?(sinks to her knees sobbing wildly, enter 
Padre Salcedo, R. U. E. slowly, sees Inez and rushing 
to her, endeavors to raise her.) 

Padre. . . . Senorita Inez, my child, what is the matter? Are you 
ill, my daughter? 

Inez ......( rising and clinging to him convulsively ) Padre, padre ! 

[ sobs ] 

P'^dve [ soothingly ) There, there, calm yourself, my daughter. 

The heat has been too great for you. Be tranquil, my 
Inez, you will be well presently. 

Inez. ..... Oh, it will never l)e well with me again ! 

Pji^^re What is this you are saying, Inez? Come, be calm, 

collect yourself. 

Inez. . . . . .Oh, I shall never know peace again. 

Pn-ere Cliild, do not talk so; it is wicked. I am here, I will 

soothe and comfort you. The Padre Salcedo, your second 



22 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



father, will help you. Tell me Inez — no harm can come 
to you — Avhat has befallen with you? 

Vail ( sj)eaking from inside house as if answering tc> a toast) 

Oh yes, gentlemen, I Avill he successful if only for the 
sake of Inez Mazalvecla. 

Inez ( starting ) He — ? 

Padre ( questioningly ) Who? 

Inez [ throwing herself into Padre's arms. ] Oh Padre, do not 

question me — I cannot answer you, now — only grant 
me mercy and forgiveness. 

Padre [angrily] What enigma is this Inez? Explain your- 
self? Have you been injured? 

Inez Beyond all redemption ! 

( throws h erself on Padre's breast, sobbing and fainting. 
Procession of children again enters singing, R. U. E. 
as Padre releases Inez, and allows her to fall gradually 
to stage while he stands as if amazed. A pause. Padre in 
deep thought seems slowly to realize the meaning of 
her words and raising his right hand points to house 
wherein is Van Raer. ) 

Padre Beyond all redemption! Mercy and forgiveness! What 

• can this mean? [with vigor] He — ? 
( children march around,, singing. ) 



CURTAIN. 



END OF ACT I. 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 23 



ACT IX. 



RflNCHD EL MARID, 



SCENE Garden showing casa of the Rancho El Mario. 

House at back, built in Mission style with tile roof and long 
double windows, opening on veranda. Door at L. C, of house. 
Windows opened showing a furnished room. At back of room 
a book-case. In C, is a table on which is a litter of l>ooks and 
papers ; a caraffe of water, decanter of wine ; and some glasses ; also 
jug of tobacco and package of brown papers for making cigarettes- 
A chair on each side of table, facing front. This room is prac- 
tical as is also door opening on veranda ; and flight of steps 
leading into garden. Disposed around garden are plain wooden 
settees. At opening of act Felipe is discovered trying to drive 
children out of garden. Children shout and run about, playing 
From where cue is introduced, music continues to end <A act. 



Fel Here! here, you little devils, leave those flowers alone. 

Caramba! You will not leave arose with which to 
dress the altar. Be off" with you. 

(enter Don L., from Jiouse; tlie children surround him 
shouting, ) 

Don How fresh and sweet you look, my children. You arc 

happy, eh? That's right, shout away, it does me good 
to hear you. There, tliere now, ruji away, or Felipe 
will be cross again. ( exeunt children 11., as Don de. 



24 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



tains the last, a little girl, and kisses lier. ) Ah, a 
kiss for you, little one? (child runs after the others R.) 
Well Felipe, everything prospers, eh? ( seats himself .) 

Fel Si Senor, all is as voii could wish. The harvest will be 

abundant and everything is most prosperous. 

Don Buena Felipe, buena. Ah, how beautiful our Califor- 
nia is, how mild and glorious is our sun and air; all 
nature seems to be at peace and all is joy, all is happi- 
ness and contentment. 

Fel Beautiful indeed, Don Luis. 

Don Ah Felipe, to think that we could not forever retain this 

land. To think of the struggles and sacrifices and the 
sufferings this country has cost us, and now it is ours 
no longer. 

Fel You are right, Senor, it is terrible. 

Don .... Fate is hard Felipe and it was a cruel blow to take from 
us our quiet and tranquil existence. 

Fel Si Senor, since the "Gringo" came, the quiet life has 

gone. 

Don Now it is all for gold that man works and lies and steals. 

In the wild scramble for existence, the commandments 
are forgotten and we are over-run with a swarm of 
adventurers. 

Fel. .... But the Padre Salcedo says, that we must not think of 
that; all is for the best and that God only sees fit to try 
his children. 

Don [rises agitated] The trial is severe Felipe, the trial is 

severe. We would be less than human, diti we not regret 

those happy days when Spain protected us. To think 

of all that is gone- — of our quiet and. peaceful lives now 

80 rudely disturbed — ah I still suffer and the old 
wound is sore and the st^ng of our conquest, still 

rankles in my heart. 



THE 8T0RY ^»F INEZ. 25 



Fel ... ... Si Senor, the Americano hag done us great mischief 

but it can not now be changed. The good Padre, 
Salcedo says, that God will direct and preserve lis. 

Don (solemnly) Then let us rest in His mercy, Felipe. 

F'el. How goes the case Senor? Will we win or will the 

^ devilish Americano take from us our beautiful El Mario? 

Don The Don Senor Van Raer tells me that all is secure and 

that in a short time the court will decree that we are 
right and will give us justice. He is a noble man, the 
Senor Van Raer, and I have much confidence in him. 
But liere is our good Padre, Felipe, leave us. 
(exit Felipe R., as Padre enters L. ) 

Don Buenas dias. Padre. 

Padre.. . . .A good morning and a blessing to you, Don Luis; you 
are well? 

])on As well as I over am now. Padre. 

Padre Ah Luis, Luis, wliy will you always treasure in your 

heart tliis resentment against the mandates of God? 

Don Not against God do I complain, but against those who 

have so grievously injured me and mine. 

Padre Why do you remain so stubborn and unrelenting? 

Don You ask me that? 

Padre These people have only done what seems to be their 

duty. Reasons of state compelled them to annex 
California . 

Don Reasons of state? 

Padre Yes, reastms of state. Without entering into the 

merits of your quarrel with these people, let me 
ask you, what is the use of further contention? What 
is done, cannot be undone. Wliy then do you allow 
yourself to (iwell and ponder on your wrongs, until in 



2»J THE STORY OF INEZ. 



3'our memory, they berome every day, greater tliaii 
they are. 

])i)ii Sometime.s I wish that I could forget. 

Padre Baiiisli from your mind, my dear Luis, all those dis- 
agreeable and futile memories which serve only to 
make you dissatisfied. Try and adapt yourself to these 
newer conditions, and to rise superior to all those 
sentimental injuries which now weigh you down with 
the weight of their accumulated bitternesses. Dispel 
your gloomy fancies and rejoice again in the present 
prospect of a prosperous future beneath the institutions 
that are so rapidly making of this young Republic, a 
giant nation, 

Don Well, well, what you say is for the best no doubt, but 

yet I cannot forget that all this beautiful country once 
was ours, that its every tree and every rock, every 
flower and every shrub, are j^art and parcel of our work 
and our development, There is no single entity which 
the state contains that is not associated with the remem- 
brance of our sufferings and our achievements. Oh ; 
Padre, you cannot feel as I do, else you would not 
talk so calmly of submitting to these newer conditions 
that are so distasteful and repugnant to me. 

Padre If you would only make the endeavor, you might yet 

be happy, 

Don. .... .Enough of this for the day; California is lost to us 

forever and I must learn to bow in submission to a 
fate, which I am powerless to avert. Now^ to other 
things. How w^ent the ceremonies yesterday? 

Padre Well indeed; fifty children were confirmed in our liolj^ 

:ieligion. It was a glorious sight. But the Senorita, is 
she well? I have not seen her to-day. 

Don She is not well, Upon her return from Monterey yester- 
day, she complained of a slight indisposition and 
retired at once. I have not seen her since. 



THE 8TORY OF INEZ. 27 



Padre. . . . ( (luestioiiingly ) Indeed? 

Don Do you know if anything occurred in Monterey to 

disturb her? 

i'adre .... No 8enor. I encountered Inez yesterday near our old 
( 'Ustoni House as I was returning from the Mass. She 
was greatly excited, and I fear, very ill. She did not 
jicquaint me with the nature of her illness and though 
I am sure that nothing serious could have occurred, 
^ still I am anxious regarding her condition. 

Don (musingly) Wliat could have happened? Surely 

nothing of any moment; and yet — [ wonderingly ] — 
she has not acted thus since she was born. 

Padre Oh, it is some i)assing irritation, she will be herself 

to-day I hope. The ceremonies were somewhat long 
and the day was a. most trying one. Perliaps the 
excitement was too great for her. 

Don I believe that I shall send to inquire for her. Tliough 

I am not anxious, still her illness alarms me. 

Padre. . . Has the Senorita Inez never spoken of her future, 
Don Luis? 

Don How mean you? Of a possible marriage? 

Padre .... Yes. 

Don No, and T have never mentioned the subject to her. 

Padre ... Has sl»e never expressed a liking or regard for any of 
our eligible young men? 

Don No, never. She has ever been as you have known her 

and never lias she liad a single thouglit that she has 
not confided it to you. But why <]o you ask? 

Padre ( evasively ) Oli, for no reas(jn. Inez is now of an age 

when the subject of matrimony should be brought to 
her attention. Perhaps some caballero has already 
attracted her notice and if so it might cliance 
that her present distress was occasioned by a misun- 
derstanding with him. 



m THE STORY OF INEZ„ 



# 



Don ( wonderingly ) Padre, are you concealing something 

from me? What is it? 

Padre. .. . [openly] It is nothing. Be assured Don Luis, that I 
would with-hold nothing from you which in any way 
concerned your daughter's happiness. I know of notli- 
ing which threatens it; be tranquil Senor, all is well. 

Don, .... .It worries me greatly Padre, to observe in Inez, a tenden- 
cy to seek companionship and intercourse with these 
newly arrived American families. Though I have not 
forbidden her their society ; still it grieves me much to 
find her constantly in the company of these people. 
When next you converse with her I desire you to 
particularly remind her of my wishes in this matter. 
She is of a different race and condition from them and 
her ways are not their ways. They neither think nor 
act as I would have my daughter conduct herself 
( taking Padre by the arm and approaching L. ) You 
will also my dear Padre — (exeunt both talking. 
L. 2, E. as Felipe preceeding Blackson, Edith, 
McGlory and Simcoe enter R. I, E.) 

Fel No Senors, the Senorita Inez is not well to-day, but I 

will inform the Don Senor Mazalveda. that you are 
here; and he will welcome you himself to El Mario. 
Pardon, Senors and Senorita, I go to summon him. 
(exit Felipe, L. 2. E.) 

Ed How ceremonious, yet how delightful, tliese Spanish 

servants are. 

McG Miss Blackson agrees with me, Judge, that these 

Spaniards are a most charming people. 

Sim Miss Blackson, you liave a most excellent echo in the. 

Major. He fairly raves over these old Spanish fam- 
ilies and their customs and manners, and he dotes on 
everything connected with early California. 

Black Well, I can heartily sympathize with his enthusiasm 

Simcoe, for this is truly a most interesting country 
and there is a wealth of tradition and sentiment 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 29 



attached to it that is most fascinating. 

Ed I am so sorry the Senorita is ill, as I was most anxious 

to meet her, John lias spoken so highly of her that I 
have looked forward to this meeting, with a great deal 
(^f pleasure. 

Black... And considerable curiosity, I suppose too Edith? 

Sim Well Miss Blackson,you will certainly not be disappoint- 
ed in the Senorita, as but here is the Senor 

Mazalveda himself. 

( enter Don and Padre Salcedo. ) L. 2. E. 

Don Welcome to El Mario. Ah, Major, and you Lieutenant, 

the casa is yours as 5'0^^ know. Judge Blackson, 
command me. Senorita and you gentlemen, the 
Padre Salcedo. 

Padre . . . . ( bowing ) God's blessing, Senors. 

Ed Oh Senor, tell me [ Padre and McGlory talk aside ] 

may we not see your daughter? We have been inform- 
ed that she is ill. I am so sorry, I had hoped so much 
to see her; I trust that her illness will not be serious. 

Don It is nothing Senorita and I am sure that Inez will 

receive you before you go. 

Ed Thank you so much, Senor Don. 

Black Senor, you have a beautiful place here, it is no wonder 

that you are attached to it. 

Don El Mario is my home, Judge, and there is no place on 

earth so sweet to me. Hei^e it was that my daughter 
was born and here her mother died. It is endeared to 
me by many recollections and if I were compelled to 
leave it, T would not care to live. I, could not leave 
El Mario. 

Black. . . . Well Senor, thet-e will, I hope, be no necessity for j'ou 
to do so. Van Raer tells me that we have a sure case 
and he is rarely mistaken. [ enter Van Kaer R. 2. E.] 
Ah ! you finally got away eh? 



30 THE STORY OF INEZ, 



Van Yes,- though those dreadful people would insist upon 

my remaining. Well Edith how do you like El Mario. 

Ed Is'nt it just splendid? Why I think it's just magnificent 

Van Have you met the Senorita as yet? 

Ed Not yet, she is ill, but we are to see her before we leave. 

Don You will excuse us Senorita, and you also gentlemen, 

the Senor Blackson wishes to examine some documents 
regarding our case. Senor Van Raer, I leave you to 
entertain our friends for the moment. 

Van..... Certainly Don Luis, I will be delighted. 

Don Thank you Senor. Come Judge, this way if you please 

Padre, will you not join us. 

(Black., Padre and Don exeunt into house L, C. ) 

Van Edith, this is a beautiful old place, so full of romance 

and sentiment. Major, I should imagine that El Mario 
would have k great interest for you. 

McG It has; in fact I was remarking just now to Simcoe, 

that I have not yet been so impressed by anything so 
distinctly Californian. Why existence here must be 
idyllic. 

Sim It is, Major; but still it is a life of which one tires very 

quickly, at least that has been my experiance. One 
can get too much of even poetry, romance and senti- 
ment. All that is very beautiful no doubt, but in time 
it palls and becomes monotonous. 

McG One would get tired of Paradise in the same way, I 

imagine, Simcoe. I am afraid that the great trouble 
with you is that you have no enthusiasm for this sort 
of thing. To properly appreciate California, one must 
feel, not experiance. 

Ed And you are right, Major. I have found it so and to 

me it appears as if I were in fairyland here, everytliing 
is so beautiful. 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 31 



Van I fear Simcoe, that you judge too hastily and sentence 

too severely. Tliis is undoubtedly a most extraordinary 
country and is one of which a person never tires. Un- 
<]er the progressive rule of our own great America, it is 
destined to become famous and one at which the whole 
• world will wonder. There is no limit to the possibilities 
it contains as it is especially blessed of God, and is one 
my friends, which will be very great. As for its people — ? 

• ( enter Inez L. 2. E. ) 

Int^z ( interrupting ) It is unnecessary to speak of them 

8enor ; they do not deserve the kindness with which 
you would treat them. 

Van (in surprise ) The Senorita? Senorita, allow me to 

present Miss Blackson ; the gentlemen you know already. 

Ed Senorita, I am delighted to meet yon. I was afraid 

that I Avould not liave that pleasure, as I was told that 
you were ill. lam glad to know that it was not serious. 

Inez Thank you, Miss Blackson, believe me, I am very 

grateful for your kindness. I suppose that my father 
lias been frightening you on my account. He always 
magnifies any trifling indisposition I may have, into 
positive illness. And you, Major, do you still admire 
our California as greatly as ever. 

McG More than ever Senorita, since I have become more 

familiar with its history and its many beauties. I seem 
to hardly think of anything else. 

Sim ... .1 assure you Senorita, that he never talks of anything 
else. He posilively raves over it. 

Inez Senor Van Baer, will you kindly attend the gentlemen 

into the house ; further hospitality there awaits them- 
The Senorita Blackson, will excuse you, I am sure. 

Van With pleasure, gentlemen, this way, if you please. 

(exeunt Van, McG, and Sim. into house L. C) 

Inez Won't you be seated Senorita, and have you liad some 

refreshment? Some fruit or wine? 



32 THE StORY OF INEZ. 



Ed [Seating herself] No thank you Senodta, I would 

ratlier remain here in your beautiful garden, amidst 
these lovely flowers and talk with you if you will let me, 
I seem to know you as an old friend, as both my father 
and Mr. Van liiier have told me so often of you, 

Inez. . . . . .h)id they? It is quite warm to-day and perhaps it is 

nicer out of doors. 

Ed Oh, yes indeed it is, 

Inez. . . . Have you been in California very long? 

Ed. .... .For some years, in fact, before the first discovery of gold. 

You see ray father brought me here, with my mother^ 
who died. 

Inez Then, like myself, you have never known a mother's 

love? 

Ed. . . . . . .No, never, and it hurts papa so to speak of her that I 

feel as if I never knew her. But were you very young 
when your mother was taken from you? 

Inez Merely an infant. 

Ed. How very strange it seems and yet how sad. 

Inez Sad indeed, Senorita; for I could have loved a mother 

dearly. But then I should not complain, I have had 
my father and dear old Padre Salcedo to comfort me 
and so I suppose I should be contented. 

Ed Contented? It seems to me that I could be very 

happy in this beautiful country. 

Inez. ... It is very beautiful Senorita and I do love it sincerely 
You cannot know how much. 

Ed [rising] Oh yes, I do. Mr. Van Raer also loves it and 

we intend to make our home here. He has told you per- 
haps — — or you know — that — we — are to be 
married? 



THE STOKY OF INEZ, 33 



Inez (slowly)No, he has not told me but yet I know that you 

are to be his wife. Do you love him veiy much? 

Ed........ Do I love John? (impulsively) Oh, with all my 

heart if he did not love me I think I should die. 

Inez Tell me, your American customs are so different from 

ours; you will forgive me asking you, but have 
you known him long? 

£d Oh, yes for several years, ever since he came to San- 
Francisco, You see his people knew my people in the 
Eastern States and when lie arrived here, he came 
to my father as to an old friend. 

Inez [slowly"] And has he told you that he loved you? 

Ed (naively) How else would I marry him? 

Inez Does a young lady select her own husband in 

America, then? 

Ed [doubtingly ] Well not exactly; she only tries to- 

But is it not the same with your j)eople as with mine? 

Inez Oh no, with us it is the fatlier of the young lady 

who selects the husband, 

Ed, How strange! But suppose you do not love the man 

your father selects? 

Inez Oh. love does not enter into it at all, except by ac- 
cident. Of course, there are exceptions, where, for 
instance, the father allows his daughter to choose for 
herself. But this is very rarely done, as tVie father is 
presumably the wisest judge of the man's qualifications. 
We are dutiful children Senorita, and we always (jbey 
our parents. 

Ed How very unsatisfactory, though I suppose the systenV 

has its advantages also. One need not obey the husband, 
one's parents have selected. But tell me, Senorita, 
have you never thought of getting married? 

Inez (sadly) Oh, yes. 

Ed. ... . And have you met any one you could love? 



34 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



Inez (slowly and painfully ) Yes. 

Ed, ...... And are you going to marry him? 

Iney, No. 

Ed, ( wonderingly) No? And yet you love hitu? 

Inez Yes. 

Ed And does he love you? 

Inez ( passionately ) I think he does. 

Ed .Does he know tliat you love him? 

Inez He does. 

Ed Forgive me, but I do not understand? Has your 

father — does the Don object? 

Inez (passionately) My father knows nothing of it and I 

pray God that he may never know. 

Ed Why, how strange ! 

Inez Oh Senorita,, Miss Blaekson, do not question me further 

I cannot answer you. 

Ed Still—? I 

Inez [interrupting passionately] You will Vie ver under- 
stand what it is that I suffer and must continue to 
suffer. Forgive me but do not press me further. I 
cannot tell you any more and I regret that I have 
already said so much. I am glad that you are beloved 
and I feel that you will be very happy. The Senor Van 
Raer is a good man and some day will be a great one. 

Ed* Oh. Senorita, I am so sorry if I have hurt you and you 

must forgive me, but I wish you would let me do 
something to help you or console you. Peril aps Jolm 
might be able — ? 

Inez Miss Blaekson, you must never repeat a word of this 

conversation to him. Least of any man in the world 
can he assist me and I beg of you, never to speak of 
this to him. Promise me that you will not? 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 35 



E<1. (<l()ubtiiigly ) Certainly I will promise since you so 

<lesire it, still I can hardly understand. Why John is 
tlie Isest of men and I am sure that if he knew that 
you were in distress he would only be too eager to 
help you, 

In<}z Again I beg of you not to mention this matter to him. 

We are already sufiiciently indebted to the Senor Van 

Raer without troubling him further. And besides you 

haA'e already attached too much importance to my 
• ... 

coniidences; I am not really as unhappy as perhaps 

you imagine. You do not understand our ways that 

is all. 

Ed (warmly ) I can always understand when a person is 

suft'ering and you seem to be in pain, therefore I beg 
of you to allow me to try and relieve your distress. 

Inez Senorita, believe me, I am grateful to you for your 

kindness to me but you can do nothing to aid or comfort 

me. The only person who can assist me is ? (enter 

Van Raer hurriedly L. 2. E. Inez changes her tone. ) 
Tlie Senor Van Raer? ( aside to Edith. ) Remember, 
not a word. ( to Van.) Have you returned so quickly 
to take from me, my new friend? 

Van You are friends, then? 

Inez Friends indeed! 

Van The Judge is about to return to Monterey, Senorita. 

(enter Black., McG., and Sim. L. 2. E. ) 

Black Well, Edith , if you have concluded your visit, we must 

take our departure, as we return to San Francisco at 
cmce. 

Ed. ...... I am quite ready, father. Good-bye Senorita, and tliank 

you so juMch for your kindness; do not forget me. 

In^v Adios, and God bless you ; may you be very happy. I 

will not bid you "Good-bye" gentlemen, as I hope to see 
you often. You know, my father is always glad to 
welcome vou. 



36 THE STORY OF INEZ, 



MoG Many thanks Senorita, but I fear that we ahall not 

long remain in Monterey, as we are even now awaiting 
orders to remove the post to San Francisco. 

Inez Indeed? I had not heard of it, it comes as a great 

surprise tome, and we shall be sorry to lose you. At 
all events, do not forget us while yet you remain in 
Monterey. Buenas dias, Senors. 
( all exeunt except Inez K. 2. E. ) 

Ed [ returning hastily R. 2. E. ] Oh, Senorita, I could not 

leave you without telling you again how much I admire 
and esteem you. I have never yet met any one whom 
I could love as I would you, if you would let me. Do 
not forget me and remember that if I can help you in 
any why ? 

Inez [interrupting ] Miss Blackson, I am very grateful to 

you and I will never forget y<ni, be assured of that. 

Ed Senorita, just as John returned you were about to tell 

me of someone who could assist you, won't you tell me 
now? 

Black [without,] Edith? 

Inez I was not about to mention the name of any one. 

Ed Forgive me, but you said, "the only person whc> can 

assist me is ? 

Inez [ solemnly ] God ! 

Ed Oh, I beg your pardon, luit believe me, I am only 

persistent through my sympathy for you. It seems 
that I am so hap]\v myself that I would like everyone 
to share my joy. But there, I really must be going, 

Black (without) Edith, we are waiting for you! 

Inez (taking Edith's hand) You have a good heart, Senor- 
ita and God will bless you. 

Ed Yes father, I am coming. ( to Inez. ) Good-byu Senor- 
ita — no, Inez, good-bye. 
(exit R. 2. E. ) 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 87 



Inez ( much agitated. ) And she is tu be his wife. His wife? 

My God! am I to be tluis abandoned? What is to 
become of me? What am I to do? But yesterday, a 
child, innocent and pure; to-day, a woman, ruined and 
Avise in the ways of vice. Oh, what sorrow is mine; 
what humiliation and disgrace must come to me! Oh, 
God! thou who art good and merciful, look kindly upon 
your sufl'ering child, I beseech thee, and guide me out 
of the darkness and misery which surrounds me, and 
which, without Your aid and assistance, threatens to 
destroy me. ( falls, sobbing on settee, Music. ) 
( enter Van Raer, R. 2. E. ) 

Van Inez? And in tears? 

Inez .... . . [ collecting herself. ] You? 

Van [ quietly, ] Yes, Inez, 

Inez ( passionately. ) Why have you returned? Why do 

you so soon leave the woman who is to be your wife, to 
come to jue whom you have treated so shamefully? 

Van [in great surprise, ] You know all, then? 

Inez ......( scornfully. ) Yes. 

Van ( anxiously ) I would have spared you if I c<juld. This 

lias all been so sudden, I did not expect Edith to 
come here. She has told you? 

Inez No. 

Van You have guessed it then? 

Inez There was no need, 1 heard you proclaim the engage- 
ment yourself. 

Van Where? 

Inez in Monterey. 

Van In Monterey ! When? 

Inez, Yesterday. I happened to overhear though unwilling- 
ly, your conversation, with her father. 



38 THE STORY OF INEZ, 



Van You were there and I did not see you? 

Inez Yes. 

Van Why did you not disclose yourself? 

Inez What does it matter? The fact remains, that you are 

to be married and that I am not to be your wife. 

Van .... .( startle 1 and confused. ) My wife? You? 

Inez ( proudly.) Why not? 

Van Why, what do you mean? Surely, you are ill! I do 

not understand you. 

Inez [painfully] The time has come when you must 

understand me, 

Van [wildly] Why, Inez, explain yourself? 

Inez ..... .(bursting into tears and with great emotion,) Great 

Heavens! can't you understand me? After all that 
has occurred, why must you make it so hard for me 
to tell? 

Van (in great excitement as he realizes the situation.) 

. Good God! Inez, you don't mean ? 

Inez (partially overcome.) Yes. 

Van ( crushed and stricken, sinking into settee. ) 

My God, my God! 

( Padre and Don enter room in house overlooking 
garden. They take seats on opposite sides of the table 
faceing the garden. Don pours out glass of wine and 
offers it to Padre, who refuses it mutely. Don then 
places glass b}' his side and sips it occasionally and 
proceeds to make and light a cigarette. They 
converse without noticing Van and Inez in the gar- 
den, though gradually their attention is aroused and 
the Don becomes greatly excited. Business of Padre 
endeavoring to restrain him until towards cue, Don 
finally tears himself free. ) 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 39 



( After a pause- Inez noticing Van'g apparent col- 
lapse approaches him and places her hand gently on 
his shoulder. ) 

Inez. . (sadly) Do you love her so very much then? 

Van (bewildered) Love her? Who? 

Inez. ... (painfully ) Edith Blackson. 

VaiJ Great Heavens, no; a thousand times, no. It is 

you that I love and that I will always love. 

Inez What do you say? 

Van . .(continuing passionately ) From the very tirst moment 
that I beheld you, I have had no other thought than 
of you. You have been tome, more than life itself; 
the one thing that I have held most sacred. 

Inez [ surprised ] I? 

Van ( unheedingly ) From you I have drawn tlie only good 

impulses I have ever had ; and yet you ask me if I love 
her? No, no, I never have and never will love 
any one but you in this world. 

Inez [ surprised ] Then w^hy is it that you are engaged to 

tins woman? Why is it that j^ou are going to marry her? 

Van Inez? 

Inez You say you love me, and yet you are bound to her? 

Why is this so? 

Van (despairingly. ) How can 1 answer you; how tell you 

that I must marry another, notwithstanding my love 
for you? 

Inez ( scornfully ) How, indeed? 

Van (painfully ) Great Heavens! Inez, what can I say to 

you, to prove that I am not as wicked as my course 
must seem to you, I have never loved you so well as 
now, when I must leave you. 



40 THE STORY OF IKRZ, 



Inez (indigQantly ) What terrible thing is this you tell me? 

Why is it that loving me, you place your heart else- 
where? Why must you sacrifice me, who has trusted, 
you so implicitly? 

Van ... (pleadingly ) Inez, you must listen to me; will you? 
ioez (disdainfully) For what reason? 

Van Inez, I want you to summon all your courage dear,: 

for I am going to tell you — I want to say to you — 
that you must have known that — that — that, Inez, I 
can never be your husband. 

Inez .....(apprehensively) What is this you are about to say? 
Oh, God ! sustain and comfort me for I know that I 
shall need your aid. Something tells me that all is over 
and that I am condemned, (in agony) Oh,' that T 
were dead and away from the misery of this moment! 

Vau Inez, sit here, (points to settee) in this, your own 

beautiful garden ; wherein the flowers are not sweeter 
than yourself, and listen to me. (tenderly) Do not 
look at me dear, for I need all my strength to tell 
you tliat I cannot do that, which my lieart impels me 
to do. I could not be so base, whilst looking into 
those beautiful eyes, from whose bright depths I see 
reflected, the image of your own pure soul. 

Inez (f^in'king into settee almost overcome) Oh, my God ! 

m y heart is breaki ng, . 

Van Forgive me dear, if you can, for giving you so much 

pain, but an inexorable destiny so arranged my life 
tliat before beholding you, that I should become 
bound to anotlier. 

Inez Ratber say, "your ambition." 

Van You know my family history fori myself have related 

it to you. You are aware that all my efforts have 
been governed by the one absorbing object to attain 
position and prominence. Not so much for myself have 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 41 



I labored, but that through me my name and the 
ancient power and influence of my family might be 
redeemed. You know how I have toiled and striven to 
achieve a place that, would be as exalted and honorable 
as any in the land. 

Inez ....,( rising wildly ) Do not speak to me of honor ; whilst 
contemplating my disgrace. Do not dare to think of 
• restoring your own name to a position of dignity and 

respect, whilst meditating the ruin and destruction of 
mine! For God's sake if you are a man, and harbor 
for one instant, an intention, so monstrous, so horrible 
and cruel, as my abandonment; do not attempt to 
justify yourself to me. 

Van . . - . Listen to me I implore you. ( Inez sinks to settee) 
I am not trying to justify myself to you ; I am not 
even defending myself — I am simply trying to prove 
to you that — ( despairingly ) — that — Inez, don't look 
at me like that. ( humbly.) Slowly withering as I am 
beneath the weight of your, I know not how to tell 
you of the thing which is killing me. Severe as 
your condemnation will be, harsh as your judgment 
must be, I must say on, that at least you will know 
that you will not suffer alone. Great as will be your 
sorrow and regret, it can never equal the extent of 
the misery that I endure. 

Inez Of what use will it be to me to know that j^ou will 

also suffer? Of what possible use are all these pro- 
testations and avowals which lead to nothing and 
which if they do mean anything, only serves to 
increase the bitterness of my despair. Come, let us 
end this discussion that is so painful to you. Since 
you are incapable of a single thought beyond your 
own distress, do not prolong this further. 

Van ( pleadingly. ) At least, hear me ; it may perhaps be 

for the last time. 



42 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



Inez What is it? 

Vmii When first I came to Monterey, I had no other thought 

but of niy ambition. Previously, I had taken an oath 
by the bedside of my dying father, to restore the fortunes 
of our house. In order to do this, I had strained 
every nerve, worked and toiled until I was nearly 
worn out bodily, with tlie tremendous exertions I 
found necessary. Having met with some success, I 
next aspired to greater heights, 

Inez Of what use is all this? 

Van . . .(not heeding her,) Feeling assured that the time had 
come when, by a judicious marriage, I could further 
progress; I became engaged to Miss Edith Blackson : 
daughter of the most prominent and highly respected 
jurist in California. An alliance such as this offered 
to me advantages which could not be secured in any 
other way, 

Inez ( warmly) But you say you do not love her? 

Van I know this must seem strange to you, but I am not 

attempting any justification ; so I will not reply to 
that. Coming here with no other thought but of my 
work, with every prospect of a successful future ; with 
a past that contained not a single blemish and 
with a conscience as free from guilt; I set myself 
to my appointed task with my whole heart. 

Inez , You forget that you contemplated marriage with one 

whom you did not love? 

Van I did not love her that is true ; but I had every reason 

to suppose that she would be as happy without that. 
I never told her that I loved her, but that I would 
give her the whole heart of a man who had never loved 
anyone else, and whose only affection had been his 
ambition. I never deceived her in any way, and she, 



THE STORY OF INEZ, 43 



was content, Well after my arrival here I beheld you 
and for the first time in my life, I knew what it was 
t(3 love. 

Inez ( intensely ) And I also. 

yan Then it was that I learned that tliere was something 

else in the world to live for beside my ambition. 

I saw you ! We seemed to be attracted to each other 
* at once. Then it was that I enjoyed the first rapturous 

sensation of an ideal love. God! How 1 loved you and 

how I suffered. 

Inez (as before. ) And I too. 

Van (passionately) To be near you, to liear you speak, to 

look into your eyes; ah, it was elysium! And then 
when first I knew that you loved me in return, it was 
heaven ! What a paradise was this, and what a god- 
dess was my love! Insensibly, unconsciously, I allow- 
ed myself to be borne along in that deliglitful existence 
careless of the consequences, only intent upon the 
present enjoyment. Insensate fool! that I was to so 
delude myself. Good Heavens! Inez, you will never 
know how much I love you. You can never know 
what you are to me. And now, knowing all this 
feeling as I do, that you are tlie one woman whom 
I will ever love, I must leave you. ( wildly and 
passionately.) Merciful God! Inez. I cannot do it; 
( clasps her in his arms and eml»races her furiously.) 
I love you! I love you! I love you! 

Inez Oh, my heart is breaking. 

( a pause. Finally Van rijlease.s lier and draws back 
with great res<dution. ) 

Van But no, it can never be. 1 am pledged to another and 

I must not break my word. Inez, hale me if you 
will; curse me if you must; I shall deserve it all- 
I am a s<'/Oundrel and a vilhiiu ; ior I eari never be 
auglit to you. 



tHE STORY OF INEZ. 



(Don becomes greatly excited and Padre endeavors to 
restrain him. ) 

Inez (in great wrath and excitement. ) And is this to be 

your final word? Am I then to expect nothing at your 
hands, but degradation and disgrace? Oh, God ! must 
I then suffer alone? John Van Raer, your sin will 
cry aloud to Heaven for vengeance; and God will 
punish you ! He cannot permit 3'ou to leave me in 
misery and distress, without visiting upon you the 
wrath of His awful judgement, (pitifully.) Oh, is 
there no mercy in your heart for me? Can you not 
see that you are killing me ; slowly, cruelly, horribly? 
I, who was once so pure and innocent; a thing apart 
from everything that was not good and holy ; and now 
to be so base and wicked that even you must pity me 
(with dignity and feeling) Remember such mercy as 

you have shown me, you will yourself recieve. As 
you have treated me, so you, will yourself be jndged. 
False to me, you will be unworthy and untrue to 

her, Leave me now and forever, I never want to 
see your face again. You have injured me beyond all 
reparation, and I can no longer endure your hatefu^ 
Ijresence. Go! 

( Don who has gradually emerged from house through 
opened windows now escapes from Padre and rushs at 
Van Raer as if to strike him. ) 

Don Not until I have punished you for this terrible crime ! 

( Padre grasps his arm and restrains him ) 

Padre. . . . Not you Senor, but God must punish him! 

Inez. .... .(sinking, sobbing to her knees ) My father? 

Don ( turning to Inez very greatly excited but struggling to 

control himself, ) Yes, your father, my daughter, and 
one who will always be a father to you, my child. 
I have heard the whole of this dreadful story and I am 
appalled at the wickedness of this man. ( pleadingly) 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 45 



Oh, sir, how could you so defile my innocent child? 
(fiercely) It is monstrous! it is iniquitous! it is 
damnable. 

Padre. . . . (interrupting) Restrain yourself Senor, I beg of you. 

Don (to Padre. ) Have no fear, I will be calm. ( to Van 

Raer. ) As for you Senor, you have entered this house 
• only to bring disgrace and shame to its brightest, ray 

its only ornament. You have destroyed and degraded 
a pure aud innocent soul, whose only fault has been 
that she loved you. For that love she is punished. 
Never from the time her sainted mother left her to my 
keeping, has she known an unhappy or bitter moment 
and for the first in her life, I, her father, behold her in 
distress, and cannot aid her. Look Senor, look upon 
your work; (points to Inez who is still on her knees) 
see the havoc that you have wrought, and then beware 
for as there is a just God above us, you will have to 
answer for your cowardly, dastardly crime! (with 
great vigor. ) Dog of a "Gringo", may you ever be 
accursed ; may you never know a moment's peace or 
happiness in this world ; and when you reach your 
end, may the spectacle of the misery that you have 
here produced, be present to annihilate and crush 
you! ( a pause. Don turns to Inez ia a calmer tone) 
Tears! my daughter, and for what? Why should you 
weep? Look up! See, your father loves you and 
would not have you sutler. You have done no wrong. 
He is not worth the cost of a single tear from your 
pure heart. To me you are still my Inez, my beloved 
child, and what this man has done, cannot estrange 
us. Come, be brave; for you are still my daughter, to 
be loved and honored and protected. ( Don raises 
Inez and clasping her to his breast, faces Van Raer 
proudly. ) See John Van Raer, she will yet be 
happy , for secure in her father's heart, she will be 
content. As for you who have so wronged me, go in 



46 THE STORY OF INEZ, 



peace and never return to El Mario. Leave tlii.s house 
which you have dishonored but not destroyed ! 

(As Van, who has remained quiet witli bowed head, 
turns and slowly .walks R., Don presses Inez to liis 
heart whilst Padre stands as in prayer. ) 



CURTAIN. 



END OF ACT II. 



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THE STOKY OF INEZ, 47 



ACT III. 



RflNCHD EL MARin. 



APJ IXrERVAT^ OP TWENTY YEARS. 

SCENE .. ..Same as Act II., though some slight diffierences 
are noted in the arrangement of the scene, such as a different 
disposition of the chairs, settees, etc. Padre discovered with 
FeHpe as curtain rises. 



Padre (seated. ) How hright and cheerful is the day Felipe , 

all nature seems to rejoice with us. 

Fel Si Padre, it seems so. El Mario has not enjoyed such 

happiness for a great many years. How delighted the 
Senora will be to see Andreo again after his long 
absence in Mexico. 

Padre Proud indeed Felipe, for her dearest wish has been 

realize<l. From the day of his birth, the Senora has 
prayeJ constantly that Andreo might devote himself 
to religion, 

Fel Still the Senora has suffered terribly during his long 

novitiate at the College of San Fernando. 

Padre What more natural, she is his mother and the separ- 
ation has been most trying. Still deeply as the 
Senora Mazalveda has suffered, it was necessary; and 
she will be amply rewarded by seeing hini so happily 
devoted to (Jod. 



48 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



Fel Could it have been right Padre, to have allowed that 

man to go so long unpunished. 

Padre . . . . ( solemnly ) He has been punished, and that terribly 
Notwithstanding all his successes he is not happy. 

Fel (joyously) God is still good then, since he has not 

granted this guilty man immunity. 

Padre. . . . Can you doubt it Felipe? Oh no; God has punished 
this man in a manner th^t rnust convince us of his 
justice. After having sacrificed everything, not even 
excepting his honor, to gain his wicked ends, he is 
now condemned to disappointment. The name that he 
has sinned so deeply to render great and honorable, 
is now destined to perish miserably with himself. 

Fel He is without children then? 

Padre .... He is. God in His inscrutable wisdom has known where 
to strike, and the blow has been dreadful. Some 
two years after the terrible misfortune that occurred 
here, Mrs. Van Raer, she who had been Miss Blackson, 
you remember, died,; leaving him childless and alone. 
Since then he has never remarried but has devoted 
himself to his profession, ,in which he has attained the 
greatest distinction, 

Fel And he has prospered ! ■ , 

Padre. . . . Very greatly. In the vain hope of securing relief from 
his gloomy recollections, he has entered into the 
most arduous undertakings, in all of which he has betn 
successful. Remorse for his dastardly conduct however 
has continued to follow and embitter his career. 

Fel And does he know of the existence of Andreo, his son? 

Padre. . . . He does, but is in ignorance of the fact that Andreo 
bears his mother's name. Hence he has been unable 
to follow his child's career, and consequently he does 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 49 



not know how be is regarded by that son whom he 
would give his life to acknowledge, I have continued 
to follow his fortunes most carefully Felipe, for though 
be once iujured us, yet I am assured that he is repent- 
ant, and that some day he will plead for a mercy which 
J CM n not deny him. 

Fel ^^ in surprise ) You forgive him? 

Padre. . . . ( nobly ) And why not? Is it not my duty? Does not 
every law of Crod and our religion command it? But 
aside from that I cannot believe that he was wholl y 
wicked. In spite of appearances I am sure that he 
loved Inez, and that he has never ceased to suffer 
on her account, (rising) From my heart I freely 
forgive and pity him. Weighed down by the enormity 
of his offense, harassed by the bitter memories of his 
wickedness and stricken in his most sacred desires, he 
lives alone, in his somber meditations, a disappointed 
and broken man. 

Fel Well, well Padre, what you say is for the best, and 

may be right and there is no doubt that he has suflfered 
severely. But yet I can never forgive him for his treat- 
ment of her; loyalty forbids me to pardon him. 

Padre. . . . Still we cannot but commiserate this man who deserves 
so little pity at our hands. The Senora is more fortunate 
for she has a son on whom to lean, and who will 
comfort and console her. But, there, there, we must 
not chatter thus the whole da}. The young Andreo 
• will soon be here and we have much to do. Ah Felipe, 

it will be a proud day for me, when the Padre 
Mazalveda celebrates his first Mass at San Carlos, 
(walking towards R. 2. E. both exeunt. Enter 
Inez from house L. C. ) 

Inez Oh, what joy is mine, what pleasure I shall have to-day 

After such an absence I shall see again my Andreo, 
my boy. How long the time has seemed since he has 



50 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



been away! How my heart has yearned for him, and 
now at hist he is coming, my only hope my only con- 
solation, (musingly ) Oh those dreadful, weary years 
that have passed so slowly since that awful time ! 
My God, how I have suffered? To be at peace and rest 
and forever away from the cruel, pitiless world 
that judges so harshly and punishes so severely. But 
yet I could not die and leave my father who has been 
so good, so kind to me. Sustained by his tender love 
I have lived to atone b}" my tears for my sin. (longingly) 
Can there ever be happiness or contentment in this 
world for me? Will the memory of my disgrace never 
leave me? (pathetically) Ah yes, I will live again in 
the life of my son, and surely peace will come to me 
through him. How I long to see him ! To press him 
again to this broken heart that has been so desolate 
without his love. Oh Andreo, my boy, you who will 
forever be mine alone, I wait for you. 

Don .... .(speaking inside of house ) Come Padre, let us go 
into the garden ; it is pleasanter there. 

Inez (drawing aside) My father! ( remains concealed at 

back among the flowers until cue.) 

( enter Don and Padre from house, L. C. ) 

Don So to-day Padre, our boy returns, happy in his new 

duties and proud of his first direction. Well, well, how 
the time presses onward, leaving us to marvel at its 
progress. How little we reckon wliat the future has 
in store, 

Padre. . . . God's ways are devious Don Luis, but are always 
well considered. 

Don ( seating himself ) How mild and beautiful is the 

day, how sweet and refreshing is the air, andhow pleas- 
ant are the flowers! These are the things which make 
El Mario so dear to me Padre, for they speak to me 
in a language to which my heart responds. Of all 
that is left to me, here only am I content. 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 51 



Padre (meaningly) El Mario is indeed beautiful, and I 

have the greatest sympathy with your affection for it. 
Life is so pleasant here, it seems as if we must be 
contented. 

Don (sadly) And yet it appears that we were too happy, 

Padre. Here, isolated and alone as we were ; cut-off 
from the rest of the world, with which we did not 

« choose to mingle, we were nevertheless, invaded, 

(fiercely ) The garden of Eden was not further remov- 
ed from vice than were we, and yet a serpent entered. 

Padre ( quickly ) What, Luis, do you still suffer? 

Don (painfully) Unceasingly! 

Padre (sympathetically) I had hoped that after so many 

years, you had endeavored to forget your misfortune. 
If you would only forgive those who have injured you, 
surely, you would then forget your misery. 

Don (bitterly ) Forgive? You ask me to forgive those who 

have blighted and embittered my life? 

Padre Assuredly. It is your duty. 

Don. (rising) My duty! My duty! (wildly) And what 

of my outraged and abandoned child, who for over 
twenty years has borne alone, the punishment for a 
crime of which, she was the innocent victim? What 
of my honor, the honor of my race, that was intrusted 
to me by generations of the best and truest blood in 
Castile? 

Padr-e Still it is your duty. 

Don ...... What of my name, that having endured untarnished for 

centuries, must perish ignobly with me, who would 
have died to render it stainless. There is no sacrifice 
too great, no suffering too severe, that I would not 
gladly welcome, to retain and perpetuate my name, as 
spotless and unsullied as I received it. And yet you 



52 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



tell me it is my duty to forgive the only man who has 
ever cast a stigma upon the house of Mazalveda. No, 
no, Padre, what you ask is impossible. 

Padre It is not impossible, and I earnestly pray that some 

day you will relent. 

Don (disdainfully ) Relent? How mean and paltry such a 

sentiment is when compared to the intensity of my 
humiliation? Padre, you certainly do not understand 
my sufferings, since you speak to me of relenting. It 
is not wiihin my power to forgive him, 

Padre (warmly) But if you would only endeavor to master 

and control those ? 

Don ..--( interrupting fiercely ) Padre, I have no control over 

those feelings of resentment and injury that surge 

against my heart. Cannot you, who know me so well 

estimate the extent to which I have been outraged? 

Can't you grasp from amidst the wreck of my life and 

hopes, the one bitter truth that pardon is beyond my 

strength? ( gradually becoming aroused to a frenzy. ) 

How can I condone an offense that has included in its 

victims — my race, my honor and my life? How am 

I to redeem and brighten the blasted, wasted, life of my 

child? ( growing more fu7ious and excited.) No, no. 

Padre, that man has injured me so deeply that I can 

never forgive him. He has sinned so grievously that 

even Heaven will not show him mercy; and to my 

latest breath, I will ever curse and ! 

( Inez approachs quickly and throws herself on 
her knees before the Don, mutely imploring him to 
desist. Don stops suddenly then continues in a tone 
of anguish . ) 

Don Inez, my child! 

Inez Father, father, spare me the memory of my shame! 

Don ( endtavoring to raise her.) Oh, my Inez, can you 



THE STORY OF INEZ, 53 



ever forgive nie? To have remained silent so long and 
now to have allowed my passion to betray itself. Par- 
don me Inez, for having distressed you so terribly. ( to 
Padre. ) Console her Padre, for the suffering my 
violence has caused. 

Inez (wildly) Rather tell him Padre, for I cannot, that he 

must not condemn and censure him who is the father 
• of Andreo. Oh Padre, to you I have always had recourse 

when in distress, aid me now I entreat yon. Tell him 
that he must not curse the father of my child. 

Padre (pleadingly) Look Don Luis, look, upon the anguish 

which your child endures. See how the wound, scarce 
healed by time, bleeds again at the memories you have 
evoked. See in what grief and affliction, your child 
supplicates and do not hesitate. Do not deny her the 
comfort which she demands. Be generous Senor, it 
is your duty, and your conscience and love demands it. 

Don ( after a struggle, raises Inez to his breast tenderly. ) 

Inez, my child, still my daughter, I cannot see you 
suffer. For yonr sake querida, I will forgive this 
guilty man and shall hold no animosity against him. 
You have conquered, my daughter, and never more 
will I imprecate or denounce him. Henceforth he will 
be as nothing to me and you and I and Andreo will 
live in peace and in contentment. No longer will the 
shadow of his misdeeds come between to darken or 
diminish our happiness. 

Inez .....( much affected) Oh, my father, how noble and 
good you have been to me. 

Padre (solemnly) God b e praised Senor; you have acted 

wisely. 

Don (lightly ) But prepare yourself my child, our good 

Felipe approachs and if I mistake not, has great news 

for you. 

( enter Felipe, R. 1. E.) 



54 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



Fel. .... Don Luis and you Senora, the young Senor, Padre 
Mazalveda, is coming, 
(retires up stage until cue. ) 

Inez ..-- (joyously) At last, at last. Oh Andreo, my son, 
where are you? 
( enter Andreo R. 1. E. ) 

And Here mother. ( embraces Inez who kisses him on the 

forehead only. ) 

Inez Oh Andreo, my boy. 

And (soothingly) Be tranquil mother dear, I will never 

leave you again. El Mario is to be my home for I am 
to assist our good Padre Salcedo at San Carlos. The 
Director especially solicited the appointment for me. 

Inez Oh, I am so glad. I have so longed to see you Andreo. 

And There, there, mother dear, all that is passed now 

since I am returned. Let us forget the past and think 

, only of the future. Ah, Don Luis, you have not 

changed. 

Don. .... .No Andreo, you see I am still young. 

And And you Padre, my second father, you too are well? 

Padre Thanks be to God, my son. 

Inez. .... .But you Andreo, have changed so much? 

And Have I mother? 

Don And have you no word for Felipe? 

( Felipe comes forward. ) 

And Oh, Felipe was the first to meet me. We have already 

greeted each other, 

Fel. ......That reminds me, Don Luis, all our people have 

assembled in honor of Andreo's return. What am I 
to tell them? 



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THE STORY OF INEZ, 55 



Don Tell them to rejoice and make merry Felipe. To-day 

everyone must be happy; proclaim it a holiday and 
spare not the food and wine that all may be suitably 
entertained. ( exit Felipe E. I. E. ) I will go myself 
to thank them. Come Padre, let us go too. Let us 
leave these children to themselves. 
( exeunt Don and Padre, R. 1. E. ) 

And Ah, the dear old Don, how I love and revere him ! 

Inez And it is well that you do my son, for he is a noble 

man. 

And And now mother dear, tell me, all has been well with 

you? 

Inez Of course I liave missed you greatly and my heart has 

often ached to see you, but the Padre always comforted 
me, and it was for the best, so I should not complain. 
But now all that is passed and El Mario will be 
dearer to me than ever, now that you are here. But 
tell me — since you have been ordained — I suppose, I 
must call you "P'ather", and not "Andreo". 
( Andreo puts arm around her waist as they are walk- 
ing towards L. ) 

And Never madre mio. Call me what your heart dictates, 

for I will always be your boy, your Andreo. 

(both exeunt, L. 2. E. Music which continues softly 

to end of act. Enter Van Raer, R. 2. E. ) 

Van (after looking around inquringly. ) How natural it 

all seems, and liow beautiful! The same calm, serene 
and peaceful atmosphere still pervades the jilace as 
when last I saw it. The house, the garden, everything 
is the same, it is only I, who have changed. Oh, to 
think of all that might have been. If I could but 
recall the past and be again my old self, free from 
this terrible agony winch I endure. Ah, these are 
but vain regrets which bring me nothing but misery 
and distress. Conld I but banish from my mind the 



56 THE STOKY OF INEZ. 



memory of lier suffering, I would then be content 
( looking around longingly. ) El Mario! How sweet 

the name sounds and Inez! How the mention of 

her beloved name thrills through every fibre of my 
being and soothes and comforts me. Inez! 
(enter Padre R. 2. E.) 

Padre (in surprise. ) Senor Van Raer? 

Van .... ((luietly) Yes Padre, it is I. 

Padre. . . .( severely ) And what seek you here? 

Van (warmly) My honor, that, which I discarded a 

century ago. 

Padre (kindly) Has it seemed so long to you? It is only 

twenty years. 

Van ( vehemently ) To me Padre, it has been an eternity 

during which I have never known a moments peace. 

Padre What do you hope for here? 

Van ( wearily ) Pardon Padre, pardon, for my sin. 

Padre. . . .(severely) Your own conscience tells you that you 
have that. You must know that we have forgiven you. 
That is not, cannot be your motive for intruding here. 
What further object have you? 

Van ( earnestly ) To see her. 

Padre ( surprised) Inez? 

Van (desperately ) Yes, Inez! ( pleadingly ) Ah, do not 

deny me. I have come so far and have hoped for so 
much from her. 

Padre Why do you wish to force j'ourself upon her? Why 

seek to reopen the old wound as your presence here is 
certain to do? Wliy would you be so cruel to her? 

Van I cruel t(t her? No, no, it cannot be, I do not wish 

to cause her pain ; I could not further mean to injure 
her. I only wish to i)Our out at her feet, the misery 
and remorse with which mv heart is burdened. Only 



THE 8T0RY OF INEZ. hi 



to lell her that this silence is killing me; only to 
assure her, that 1 have not profited hy my perfidy. 

Padre (severely ) And what can this avail you? To her it 

can only hring pain and suffering; whilst to yon, it can 
only mean additional humiliation. 

Van Padre, I do not wi^h to distress her an<l ] care nollii.ig 

Tor my own sutferings; hut I mnst tell her o!" my ntter 
liopeless misery, that she may pity me. Oh Padre, yon 
who are good and wise; look into my heart, and if you 
see therein aught that is of evil, hanish me from this 
place; but if you see there the angris^h. the intolerable 
longing and distress which jigitates it. grant me then in 
mercy, the request which I solicit. 

Padre (solemnly) My son, it is not for me to judge men's 

moliyes, it is God, who must do that. If you come 
licre with nanglit but good in'cntions, then all is well ; 
bat if your molives be not honest, withdraw T beg of 
you before it is too late. 

Van Can you doubt my sincerity? Can you possibly behold 

my sutferings and then believe me unworthy of your 
contidence? Does n(H the spectacle of my great des- 
pair plead to you more eloquently than any words of 
mine? 

Padre. ... It is well my son, and now listen to me. I canr.ot 
undertake to aid you in your design but I will not 
prevent you nuiking the attempt. As for yourself, you 
have earned my ])ity and my pardon. Adios Senor, 
may God forgive you as 1 do. 
( e.xit Padre into house L. C. ) 

Van ( musingly ) How good and noble he is? Oh that I 

were worthy to stand beside such a man! But who 

(•(^mes here? 

((>nter Inez l>ackwards L. 2. E., calling. ) 

Inez .... Come to me soon Andreo, I will wait for you here. 
( faces Van Raer. ) 



58 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



Van C together in 1 Ii^ez? 

Inez ( surprise. > j^j^^, 

( a pause. ) 

Inez (passionately ) My God! What has brouglit you here 

to renew my sufferings, when I was about to forget 
them? 

Van ( softly ) Forgive me Inez, if I distress you, but I felt 

that I raust see you ygain. 

Inez (greatly agitated) For what purpose? After what 

has occurred between us, what possible motive induced 
you to come here again? 

Van ... - (slowly and softly ) Inez, jiity me. 

Inez ( bitterly ) Pity you — and for what? For having in- 
flicted on me a mortal injury? 

Van No Inez, but for loving you yet. 

Inez Have you returned only to insult me? 

( Padre and Don enter room in house as in preceding 
act and taking seats on opposite sides of the table re- 
peat business as before. ) 

Van (warmly) God forbid! I have returned because I 

could not longer endure my misery. I have come to 
tell you — to beg of you to forgive me. Nothing that 
you could say would serve in any way to increase my 
bitter and deserved abasement. I can no longer bear 
this burden of sorrow and remorse and so I turn to you 
as to an angel, to pity and relieve me. 

Inez (vigorously) In all this you speak as always of your 

own sufferings and nothing of mine. How have I 
lived for all these years beneath the anguish of my own 
folly and God's displeasure? What of my misery and 
degradation? What of the terrible agony which I liave 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 59 



endured since lirst I drank of the bitter cup that has so 
poisoned and destroyed my life? What of the idle, 
useless tears that I have shed, which have never reliev- 
ed me and which in falling have seemed to sear and 
burn into my flesh like rivers of scorching fire, that 
were to brand me with my dishonor? You say you 
have suffered, then I tell you that I too have suffered 
biit with a fiercer torture than any you could know. 
Oh, my life has been a torment to me and it is you 
who have made it so. 

Van ( softly ) At least if you have suffered Inez, your an- 
guish was moderated and assuaged by the kindness 
and consideration of those who loved you. ( plaintive- 
ly ) You were not compelled as I was, to live a double 
life; to conceal your anguish as I have had to conceal 
mine. Your grief and despair had no further sting of 
hypocrisy and deceit to increase it. Oh Inez, if you 
knew what my life has beea, you would pity and for- 
give me. 

Inez Understand me well. My religion and my own better 

self inexorably commands me to forgive you and I do, 
most sincerely. 

Van I thank you for that at least. 

Inez But when you suggest that I should pity you, when you 

make pretense of still loving me, when you endeavor 
by reciting the intensity of your own distress, to obtain 
my sympathy and consideration for you, then you 
fail. 

Van Can you believe that I am not sincere? 

Inez When I think of my wasted and ruined life, of my 

adored father whose torment and disgrace I have been ; 
when I think of my beloved son, who through me is 
dishonored — then I almost fear for my reason, for 
then — I wonder that you still live ! 



60 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



Van (earnestly) And what of your son? What have yon 

told him? 

Inez ( vigorously ) The trutli ! 

Van ( wildly ) And he — ? 

Inez (triumphantly) — has absolved me! 

( a pause. ) 

Van And has he never asked for liis fatlier? Does he know 

who I am? 

Inez (calmly) I have told him everything, save only your 

name. That I have withheld from liim, because I 
feared that his great love for me would prompt him 
to avenge his mother's honor. 

Van (passionately ) Oh Inez, now it is that I comprehend 

what a fatal error mine has been. Great God ! How 
near I was to happiness and yet turned from it! By 
what inexplicable misfortune was I so actuated. 

Iiiez Ask your conscience; that will tell you. 

Van My God, Inez, listen to the last desparing appeal of 

a hopeless man and if you have any mercy in your 
heart, pity me. 

Inez What you ask is impossible. 

Van See Inez, it is I whojjlead to you as twenty years ;ago 

you supplicated me, only for the sake of all you hold 
dear, do not answer me as I once answered you. 

Inez When I shall forget your answer, I will forgive your 

cruelty. 

Van (pleadingly) Oh Inez, do not drive me back to that 

cruel, mocking place where men look up to me as to 
something that is good and honorable. They do not 
know that he whom they chastize with their i)raise is 
not worthy of even their contempt. Oh Inez, this 
cannot long continue. Some day I must cry out to be 
shunned and avoided, as the leper of old cried out 
"unclean, unclean!" I cannot live this dual life of 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 61 



public integrity and private dislionesty. Oh Inez, 
save me from myself, for I am sinking beneath the 
weight of my accumulated anguish and remorse. 
( as Van stands trembling and overcome, Don and 
Padre enter from house, as in preceding act. ) 

Padre See Don Luis, here is a criminal who supplicates for 

release; a sinner who beseeches mercy from those he 
has wronged. Oh, Thou great and inscrutable Provi- 
* 4e.nce, how wonderful is Thy intelligence! ( to Don ) 

Speak to him Senor, and assure him of his pardon. 

^*>i^ (slowly and with feeling. ) John Van Eaer, years ago 

you entered this abode only to bring sorrow and dis- 
grace to it. Why have you returned? Your presence 
here evokes only the most painful memories and oc- 
casions the greatest distress to one whom it is my 
duty to shield and protect. From what I have heard, I 
know that your conscience has awakened, since you 
are suffering. In the name of mercy I forbear to add 
to yoar misery an I therefore I shall not further inflict 
yoii. For yo:i there can never be a place here; you 
are not wanted. Into this, house you must never again 
intrude. I forgive you but I forbid you to ever return 
to El Mario. I pray God, to allow me to recall the 
im]3f(^cation I cast upon you when last I saw you; for 
now, I no longer wish liarm or evil to befall you. 
May you find elsewhere, the rest and peace you 
seek. Adios, Senor Van Raer. 

( D(3n bows to Van Raer and turns to Padre, while 
Inez stands quietly. As Van Raer turns to exit R- 
Andreo enters L. 2. E. and seeing Van Raer, bows to 
him as to a stranger, and continues on to Inez, 
who stands L. C. whilst VanRaer slowly walks R. 

CURTAIN. 
END OF ACT III. 



62 THE 8T0RY OF INEZ. 



ACT IV. 

SilCRISTY, 
SilN CARLnS BDRRaMED 

MONTEREY. 

AN INTERVAL OF SIX \EAKS. 



SCENE ...... On K. are double swinging doors leading to cliurcb, 

which is not shown; through which as they are opened to admit 
of characters entering, the music of an orgnn and singing of clioir, 
is heard chanting a Mass for the dead. The odor of incense is 
wafted tiirough and penetrates to audience. On wall at L. is a 
miniture altar or shrine, on which several candles are burning; 
a statue, a crucifix and some vases of Howers. In front of altar 
is a praying stool. On each side of altar at L. are doors. vSet 
back on stage R. out of line with swinging doors, are a table and 
two chairs. In corner on R. is a large mission cross without 
figure. In corner at L. are registry desk and chair. At back 
is a long cabinet or chest of drawers, over which some vestments 
are carelessly thrown. As act opens, Benito is discovered, hold- 
ing doors at R. open, listening to music. After a pause he 
releases them, allowing them to close gently, and proceeds to 
tidy sacristy. As doors are opened, music rises; fading away as 
they are closed. 





<1H 




THE HTORY OF INEZ. 63 



Ben How beuutiful (he music is ami how sohvmii aiul ii:ra,ii(l 

tlie new orj^an soimds in tlie old church? Tlie HcMiora, 
Mazalveda herself, gave it to Ban Carlos, and now it is 
used for the first time at her own funeral Mass. It 
seems as if she were only sleeping, so peaceful she 
looks. How sweet and good she was? (sighs) Ali 
well, it was her wish to die, she did not care to linger 
liere after her father, the Don Luis Mazalvedsi had 
died. Slie was lonely without liim and yet — the poor 
• will mourn her greatly. How bravely the young Padre 

Muzalveda hears his loss and how hard he tries to re- 
press his grief? Well, well, death must come to us 
all and so we must prepare ourselves, 
(enter children, L. 1. D., bearing tiowers. ) 

Ben Well children, what do you want here? 

1st. Ciiild. .We want you to take these flowers to the Senora Maz- 
alveda, who is dead, (points R. ) She is in there 
Benito. We couldn't get in the church, it is so crowd- 
ed. Won't you put them near her? 

Ben ( taking tiowers. ) Si, my children ; I will take tliem 

for you. Beside the others in tlie church they will 
look beautiful. Give them to me and tread softly and 
don'tdisturb the Mass. (exeunt children softly, L. 1. D. ) 
How sweet these tiowers are and how pleased the 
Padre Andreo will be when he hears whence they 
come. ( exit into church, R.) 
( enter Van Raer, L. 1. D., old and decrepid. ) 

Van How unfortunate that I should have come on such a 

<lay? Some extraordinary occasion no doubt, for the 
church was so crowded, I could not gain admittance- 
I wonder what place this is. It must be the sacristy^ 
i imagine. Well perhaps, it will answer my 
purpose. 

(enter Benito, R. 1). ) 

Ben A. stranger? What seek j^iu, Senor? 



64 THE STOKY OF INEZ. 



Van ( quietly ) A priest. 

Ben Ah, Sen or, that is impossible at present. 

Van Why so? 

Ben Because they are all busy to-day. 

Van Busy? 

Ben To-day a requiem is being celebrated. 

Van Can't I see the Director? If you will give my name. 

to Padre Salcodo ? 

Ben .,( interrupting ) Padre Salcedo! He is no longer here. 

Van Not here! Where is he then? 

Ben He is dead Senor. 

Van (shocked ) Dead — ! do you say? 

Ben. . . . . . .The Senor is a stranger not to know that tlie Padre 

Salcedo has been dead since three years. 

Van (much affected ) Dead! My old friend dead. Can it 

be so? Ah, he was a good man, aud I loved him. 
( to Benito ) But never mind, some other priest will 
answer. 

Ben Just at present Senor, all the Padre's at San Carlos are 

engaged on the altar, A mass for the dead is being 
celebrated and all the priests save one, are busy. 

Van You say all, save one? Can I not see the priest who 

is at liberty? 

Ben It is the mother of that priest who is dead, and he is so 

greatly overcome by his grief as to be unable to 
attend to any duties. 

Van Is he in the church? 

]]en He is. 

Van ...... .Then go to him aud tell him that he is wanted by one 

who is in srreat extremity. 



THE STORY OF INEZ. Cf. 



Ben Pardon Senor, but I would not disturl) liini now. 

Vn.u ( pleadingly ) I have come a iJ:R'at distauee, 1 am 

old and failing and I fear that my streiigtli will not 
long support me. The matter, is most pressing and 
delay may be dangerous, go to him I beg of you, 

Ben Excuse me Senor, but I would not disturb him now. 

iian (angrily) Then the blame and censure of Almighty 

God be on your hea 1 for it may then be too late, 

Ben I am sorrj^ Senor, but if yoit could wait until after- 
noon your wish can then be gratified. At present it 
is impossible, as I would not interrupt the Padre in 
his atHiction. 

Van Wait, I cannot wait. Go to him at once and tell him 

that he is wanted by one who is in greater sufiering 
than himself. Tell him that he must leave the dead to 
attend the dying. It is his duty, and he will hold you 
blameless. Go I beseech you, I cannot longer de- 
lay. 

Ben Well Senor, I will go since you seem in such great 

distress. 

Van (seating himself R.) How these obstacles and diffi- 
culties try my strength and weary me? ( ydaintively ) 
Ah, I have become so weak and ill that I am unable 
to bear my troubles. I wonder who it is that is 
dead; some person of great prominence, no doubt. 
Oh ! if I too could only die and forever end this agony 
and misery that I endure. How I long for rest and 
peace within the grave. Ah, happy the person who- 
ever it is, who lies there in the church, beyond those 
doors; whose soul now released from its miserable 
body, soars upwards to relief. ( enter Andreo, K. I), 
with the marks of a great and recent sorrow plainly 



66 THE STOKY OF ]NEZ„ 



discernible upon liis face. He remains, quietly re- 
garding Van Raer, until cue. ) How I envy that 
person for whom life's trials have ended and who has 
quitted this hateful world, wherein existence has been 
such a torture to me. 

And (advancing) You sent for me, Senor? 

Van (rising) Pardon me Padre, for thus disturbing you 

in your bereavement, but I am ill and cannot long 
survive, and I feared to delay. 

And Do not consider me Senor, it is my duty. 

Van When I came here I sought the Padre Salcedo, whom 

formerly I knew most intimately. 

And The Padre Salcedo has gone to his reward, Senor. 

Van So I have just learned. Padre, I do not wish to keep 

you from your dead, so I will not long detain you. 
Were it not that I am in such great extremity, I 
would not so intrude upon your grief. 

And I believe you sir. It is ray vocation to minister to 

the spiritual necessities of others, and my sufferings 
must not be allowed to interfere or conflict with that 
duty. Proceed Senor, I am at your service. 

Van With gratitude Padre. T continue. Personally I am 

unknown to you, but in San Francisco, I am highly 
honored and hold a respected position. My name 
is John Van Raer. I am of a familj' whose lineage 
extends to the earlj^ colonists of New Amsterdam, To 
me has come, great material success Padre, and T 
have been extremely prorpen^ns. 

And Then how are you in distress? Is your suffering of 

tlie mind or body? 

Van Of botli Padre. Physically and mentally I am broken 

and despairing. Before relating to you the reason for 



THE ISTORY OF INEZ, 67 



my ]>reseiit siiflferings, it will be well to tell you that 
I nni not of yonr religion, nor nin ] in f:u*t of any 
faith; my only belief being in the existence of :i 
])ivine Providence, whose justice and f<everity I have 
, had bitter reason to acknowledge. 

And It is well, since you do acknowledge Him, 

Van Did Padre t^alcedo still survive, much might lie 

spared me, for he was t.'onversant with the matter 
• which so troubles me now. Having once inilicted a. 

terrible injury uj^on a member of your church, I noAv 
desire to obtain from you some consolation and relief. 
I have been inspired to this explanation by the hope 
of ridding myself of this heavy burden of misery and 
guilt, that I acquired so long ago. 

And (solemnly) God's mercy is great Senor, use it freely. 

Van Forgive me for my hesitancy, but I cannot approacli 

this subject without experiencing tlie greatest suti'er- 
ing. Padre, my story is a sad one, and is so fraught 
with misery and degradation, tliat 1 sink in shame 
before you. 

And Do not think of me l^^enor, proceed. 

Van Years ago young sir, I found myself bereft of family 

and fortune at a single blow. Reared in idleness and 
plenty, I was now compelled to earn lor myself the 
necessaries of my existence. With the unalterable 
resolution of regaining all that my mime had lost, 1 
boldly entered upon my career. Possessed of the 
highest ideals and with the greatest ambition, I was 
determined to plod on unwaveringly, in the hope that 
through me would be restored all that misfortune 
had so ruthlessly demanded. 

And You were right Senor, to persevere. 



68 THE STORY 0»F I 



Van Having met with some success, I now determined in 

furtherance of my projects, to accomi^lisli at one stroke 
a still greater advance. This was to secure by a 
judicious marriage, the influence and assistance of the 
most highly respected jurist in the state. 

^^ih1 A grave matter Senor. 

"^'♦^•^1 Again successful, I was accepted and became bound 

to one, whom tliough I did not love her, I yet esteem- 
vd most highly. Arrived at this juncture of njy life, 
with every prospect of a prosperous future, I encoun- 
tered my fate. Coming liither to facilitate the busin- 
ess of my employers, 1 met the one woman in all 
the world whom I could love. 
( pauses with emotion. ) 

And ( kindly ) Proceed Senor. 

Van ...... Young, beautiful, gifted; of a family whose origin 

receded iuto the years, she appeared to me the 
perfect embodiment of the ideal woman. Surrounded 
with all that love and a tender devotion could suggest 
she w^*^s as innocent a,nd pure as an angel, Witliout 
realizing my danger and charmed with her gentleness 
and b(iauty, I sought and obtained the honor of her 
acquaintance. It having developed that the business 
which brought me to Monterey, concerned her father, 
this acquaintance soon ripened into friendship, from 
which the transition to a more fervid sentiment was 
inevitable. 

And You say this occurred in Monterey? 

Van In Monterey. Well, from tliat time, it was the old, 

old, story. Lulled into forgetfniness by these new and 
alluring emotions, and all unconscious of my obliga- 
tion, I allowed myself to fall deei)er and deeper into 
an abyss, whence I could only issue at tlvc price i>i a. 
woman's bonor ; at the peril of a woman's souS 



thp: story of INEZ. 69 



And (fearfully) Hcjriible, .Seiior, horrible! 

Van ( with great emotion) Oh Padre, you cannot know 

the anguish that was mine. Pledged in honor and in 
loyalty to another with the a<ldilional obligation of my 
oath to a dying father, to restore and perpetuate my 
name honorably, yet with the speetacle of this great 
distress before me, how was I to determine? 

And [ meaningly) How indeed, Senor? 

y.in 'Tis true her family was above reproach, but still if 

was not the alliance that the world would have ap- 
proved and I did not care to defy it. Well so I drifted 
along with the tide that was so rapidly bearing mo 
towards my destruction. ( growing more exciter? ) 
Then on a sudden came a terrible awakening anci 
frighted and appalled, I realized my position. Tij 
that tierce, wild, moment I seemed to stand as on a 
precipice and — hell yawned beneath, eager to engul! 
me. (wildly) Oh, to recall the past, to blot out the 
weary years that have intervened, and to have chosen 
diti'erently. 

And (greatly agitated) And how <]id you determine 

Senor? 

Van But you seem greatly agitate<l Padre; ]ierhaps in 

your bereaved and stricken condition, my story is 
more tha.n you can endure? 

And [intensely) No, no, Senor; })rcceed. 

Van Placed in such a terrible position, my heart impera- 
tively urging me one way; my atnbi ion, the <n.her ; 
wracked and tormented by the violence of my 
disai)pointment, I yielded to my stronger passion and 
despite iier agony and despair, I repudiated her and 
denied my obligation. Fleeing from the ])lace I 
left her to meet her. disgrace, helpless and alone. 

And ( furiously ) And she? What became of tiiis woman, 

whom your cowardice and infamy ha«I destroyed? 



70 THE STORY OF INEZ. 



Van (pathetically) The one single ray of hope that has 

remained to me since that fatal time, is the know- 
ledge that though disgraced and despoiled, she was not 
cast out of her father's house. Despite her shame and 
my desertion, she was not allowed to destroy herself. 
Her father, whose love triumphed over the sensation 
of his grief and dishonor, forgave anti cared for her. 
Since that time, save only for the knowledge of her 
misfortune and the memory of my perfidy, she has 
lived in peace. ( acutely ) The only solace that has 
been vouchsafed me in the misery of my existence, is 
the certainty that Inez did not suffer further. 

And ( intensely ) Inez? 

Van Yes, Inez, that was her name, (noticing Andreo's 

* excitement ) But you seem greatly excited Padre? 

What is the matter; shall I summon assistance? 

And Oh, it is nothing, the emotions of tlie day have weak- 
ened me, that is all. Do not alarm yourself on my 
account; I am quite well, only your story moves me 
strongly. Go on I pray you. 

Van Well after the terrible event, I fled iiway as In ni 

contagion. I was married to the lady to whom 1 
was promised, and who never understood my aver- 
sion and dislike to revisit Monterey. Years passe*! 
until my wife died, leaving me childless and alone. 
She was a good woman Padre, and she loved me to 
the end, ignorant of my perfidy and dishonor. 

And A just punishment Senor, 

Van Again time passed and I never remarried. Years 

thereafter, I could endure this terrible silence no 
longer and so I determined to return to Monterey 
and to find Inez and im})lore her forgiveness and U> 
give me some part in the affections of my child. Jn 
spite of all that hadoccured 1 still loveed her and being 



1 

j 







THE STORY\OF JNWl. 7] 



aloiio decided to cast myself upon her mercy to pour 
out all the bitterness and anguish of my life in an effort 
to obtain lier pardon and recognition. I could no longer 
live without it, and I prefered to brave any alternative 
to obtain it. 

And (intensely) And you returned? 

Van Yes. 

^lul And wliat wa:^ her answer? 

Van That having repudiated her; I was entitled to no por- 
tion of the affection of my son. For herself, she freely 
forgave me but told me to leave lier presence forever. 
As for my son, his father was dc\u\ to liim and he must 
never be resurrected. 

And. ... .'Twas most just. 

Van (painfully) Oh, she was an angel, and never for 

one single moment during all those terrible years, have 
I ceased to love her. She was tome, though she knew it 
not, my life, my inspiration and my hope; though 
I wronged her, I loved her and I shall always love 
and honor Inez Mazalveda. 

And (observing Van and wildly excited ) Inez Mazalveda! 

Great God! Can this be true? Am I the sport of 
fancy, the victim of an hallucination, or has a miracle 
come to pass? 

Van (alarmed) Why, what is the matter. Padre? You 

seem to be in great excitement, you are agitated and 
disturbed! What can be the matter, you are in dis- 
tress. Padre; what is it? (fearfully) Why liow 
strangely you look at me! How tixed and in(iuiring 
is your gaze? Padre, Padre, what is the matter; tell 
me, you alarm me? (as in sudden recognition) By 
Heaven! this is not our first meeting? (doul»tingly ) 
Where have I seen you before? Ali yes, liow I re- 



72 THE STOKY OF INEZ:. 



member; it was in the garden of the Kanc]|io El 
Mario, on that terrible day that I was dismissed. ' That 

is it. It must be and yet it seems that J 

must know you. Surely it could not be? (wonderingly ) 
I never saw you before and yet your likeness is strong 
to some one I have known, long, long ago. Great 
Heavens Padre, help me, tell me, who are you? 
( During speech Van has slowly approached Padre, who 
has been regarding him in intense silence. Andreo 
with great cry, drasgs Van by the throat and throws 
him, to his knees, where he holds him with liis left 
hand.) 

And I ani your judge! 

Van (hysterically) Oh. to think of all those years, and nt>w 

to meet him thus. 

And ( throwing Van from him.) Ali sir, it is Providence 

that has brought you here to nu', luid it is Providence 
that will punish you. .After all these years, I meet at 
last, the betrayer of my sainted mother ; who lies there 
in the church, before her God. 

Van (wildly) Dead! Inez, dead? My God, ray God! 

that You should reserve this for my tinal punishment? 

And So at last I meet the man who is responsible for my 

being, the author of my existence, who spurned and 
repudiated me. (wildly) At last I behold the dog 
who could so desecrate and defile a sanctuary. Ah 
sir, the inspiration that brought you hither was a 
holy one and I am glad that you followed it. To 
me then is delegated the sacred office of avenging my 
mother and I will not falter. 

Van (in terror) Padre, my son, what would you do? 

And An act of justic. Too long have you been allowe<l to 

remain unpunished for the nameless crime, of which 
you are guilty. For all these years you have retuaine<l 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 73 



unmolested, whilst my mother, she who was so pure 
and gentle, has been compelled to undergo the misera- 
ble consequences of your infamous treatment. She has 
endured a martyrdom beside which your puny suffer- 
ings seem as nothing. 

Van (brokenly) My son. 

A^id Ever since I have been old enough to realize my po- 
sition, I have suffered from the knowledge of the 
infamy of my birth. To you, I am no son, to me, you 
are no father. I repudiate and repulse you with hor- 
ror. You can never be aught to me, for you, there can 
be no redemption, for such as you, are accursed. 

Van ( horrified ) Oh do not say, "accursed" ! Pity, my 

son, pity me. Surely you cannot mean to do me 
violence? Think only of how I have repented for my 
sin, of my sufferings and remorse, and it must inspire 
your lieart vvitli mercy. 

And Nothing that you can snmmon to your defense can 

aid you now, in your extremity. Coward and traitot 
dastard and cur, tlie judgment of God is upon you, 
and you cannot evade your doorn. ( in an ecstasy 
of pain and exaPation. ) Oh, sainted mother, look 
down upon your anguished son and grant me absolu- 
tion for that, which I am about to do. Oh, madre 
mio, you who were so basely, cruelly deceived and so 
fearfully punished for a crime of which you were only 
the innocent victim ; the moment of your vindication 
is at hand and it is I who will avenge you. 

Van ... . ( in great distress ) What would you do. 

And (to Van and working himself into a passion ) Monster 

of iniquity, whom Heaven has spared until now that 
I may ixiete out to you the awful vengeance of an out- 
raged and affronted Deity, prepare yourself, for your 
end is near. Bad and wicked man who has wrought 



74 THE STOEY OF INEZ. 



so much that is of evil, your punishment has at last 
overtaken you, and the terrible moment of your ex- 
piation is at hand and it is I ? 

(again grasps Van by the throat and is about to kill 
him when in the midst of their struggle, the doors 
leading from church swing open as if bj^ chance or 
the draught and the sound of a silver bell being struck 
is heard destinctly, as it rings clear and musicall5^ 
Andreo pauses suddenlj^ as if recalled to a sense of his 
position as a minister of God, and the impossibility of 
his retaliation on Van. A i)ause.) 

Van ( painfully and brokenly ) Well my son, why do you 

hesitate? • 

And ( without noticing Van's question, releases him, then 

throws himself despairingly on praying stool half-sob- 
bing) My God, it is too late, I can no longer avenge 
my motlier, 

( A pause during which Van slowlj' recovers himself 
and approacljes Andreo ) 

Y'dii C plain tively ) Do you hate me so very much? 

And. ... ( recovering himself with an effort) Hate you? No, I 
loathe and detest you. I can no longer hate you for 
now it is my duty to forgive you. I am only aggriev- 
ed that I so far forgot myself as to threaten you. 

Van Oh my son, was it for this only that I have been led 

to come to you? 

And Give thanks to God Senor, and to the wisdom and 

generosity of my mother, who lying there in the church 
dead, has yet so arranged it that you would remain 
unmolested. Oh wise and far seeing angel, you who 
hast seemed to penetrate and define the future, I 
realize now the depth and clemency of jour design to 
make me what I am. How great and good thou wast 
and yet^ ? ( longingly and regretfully ) 



THE STOEY OF INEZ. 75, 



y^^ • ( mildly ) Surely you do not regret your inability to 

harm me? 

And No SenoT; I do not regret it now. All that is over. 

As for yon sir, depart in peare, y«)iir mission is ac- 
complished. 

Van .... .(brokenly) Ah my son, your vengeance will not be 
long delayed. 1 am old, crushed and broken, annihilated 
by the accumulated sorrows of iny life, and lean not 
long surviye. the terrible shock, I have just received. 
^ I can no longer withstand thp effort of an existence 

that is hwteful to me, and I care not how soon the end 
maycoDve. Something seems to warn me that my 
presence here lo-dny is the result of no chance, but 
on the contrary is the unmistakable manisfestation of 
Divine premeditation. Oh my son, you will never 
know or apprecial.' I h«^ extent to which I h.ave been 
punished and J pray to God you will never know the 
miser,;^' that I endure. 

^^^ You are ill Senor, and in suffering, therefore I am 

constrained to spare you further unhappiness. For 
such guilt as j'ours there can be no adequate expia- 
tion, save only at the mercy of God, to whom I pray 
that He may hear yo:i and forgive you. 

Van , . .One single hope only remains to me in the chaos of my 
life and that is to obtain from you, pardon for what I 
have done. It is too late now to make leparation, save 
only by my tears, and therefore I ask, nay beg of yoii- 
to grant me this one J)oon before I leave. Eemember 
your mother did not deny me. 

^"""^ ( ^^1«^^> ) Senor, for I can not call you father, my 

mother was an angel and terrible as was your treat- 
ment ol her, lam sure that she did pardon you. A.j 
between God and man, I cannot presume to decide, 
that must he referred to One above, who will read your 
xnotives and will judge you accordingly. All that I can 



76 THE STOKY OF INEZ. 



do I will do. As for myself, I y ardon you most sincerely. 
If the intercession of my constant supplications in 
your behalf, can gain you j)eace, then you may yet 
obtain relief. May you find contentment and repose 
in your future life ; happiness I know, is beyond you. 

Van It is well my son, and I thank you and will not keep 

you longer from your duty. Go to her who was and 
is a saint, (breaking as his memory reverts to her) 
Oh, my God! Inez, that I should be condemned to leave 
you thus again and to wander forth upon that painful 
journey to the grave alone. Inez, how the magic of 
your name still thrills my soul. How beautiful it is, 
and how my heart resiponds with loving emotion to 
its memories. How it awakens in my being every genti- 

nient of affectionate re ? (breaks off suddenly 

as if in great painJ ) 

And . . . . .( alarmed ) Senor, Senor, what is the matter are you ill? 

Van ( without heeding him ) Ah, the time is long Inez, 

but patience, I am corning. I shall be with you soon 
, ,. and all will be well and — ■ — (with great cry) Ah, at 
last, I shall be at peace. It seems as if I could not 
breathe. Oh, lieavens what sensatioli is this which 
oppresses ine? Oh, death, I welcome you gladly. 
How I have longed for you, and liow patiently I 
have waited. 

And ( much alarmed) What is the matter? Shall I sum- 
mon assistance? You are ill Senor ; I will call for 
help, for I have no wish now that you should die. 

Van ( seating himself with the help of Andreo at table E. ) 

And I my son, have no wish to live. Do not be alarm- 
ed or call anyone and do not leave me. Ah, cruel, 
heartless world wherein I have found only suffering 
and disappointment, I leave you at last. 

And Do not say so sir, for there is hope -yet, you will 



THE STORY OF INEZ. 77 



recover. You can yet live to atone. 

Van (solemnly) I have atoned, my son, for my life lias 

been a curse to me and I do not wi^b to prolong it; 
pity me and pray for me my son, foi- J have been very 
wicked and my deeds have brought missery and dis- 
grace to those I have loved. To me the end is near, 
and I shall find rest and peace at last. 

And ( anxiously and much alarmed ) 8enor! 

Van ( rising and turning weakly to Andreo ) Farewell my 

son, I go to greet your ( with a great cry 

he falls on the stage ) Inez! ( Expires. ) 

And (solemnly and brokenly standing over Van.) May 

God have mercy on his soul. Kequiescat in pace. 
( turns to small altar and sinks on his knees on pray- 
ing stool with head buried on cushion, while his arms 
are raised to statue on alter. Oh madre mio! 
( sobs convulsively.) 

Benito enters from church R. D. and stands as if amazed 
holding both doors wide open whilst full choir is heard 
chanting the mass. 



— CURTAIN. — 



L«fC. 



OCT 8 1900 



